


Courting Foxes, Maddening Wolves

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Athlete Stiles Stilinski, College, College Student Stiles, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Multi, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had started playing exy freshman year because Scott wanted to join the team and he didn’t want to be alone.  His ADD made it difficult to pay attention, then threats of the supernatural made it worse.  His stats sucked and he had next to no stamina.  </p><p>When Coach Wymack came to Beacon Hills to ask him onto their team, he confusedly asked why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. freshmen lineup

**Author's Note:**

> In a world where the Beacon Hills Cyclones played Exy instead of LaCrosse... 
> 
> Okay, so this is my first ever cross-over fic and I'm kind of nervous about it. It's also my first fic for All for the Game and I don't have as strong of a grasp writing those characters as I do Stiles and the Teen Wolf gang. A part of that I think is because I have a lot of liberties to take when writing Teen Wolf because it's a TV show. Writing a fiction of a book puts pressure on me to sound like the book. 
> 
> For those of you who don't know the book series ALL FOR THE GAME by Nora Sakavic, I highly suggest it. One, because this fic will make no sense without having read it, but more importantly, it's a fantastic read. Trigger Warnings for any type of abuse. Literally. So, be forewarned. These things will probably be touched upon in this fic. It's impossible to not. But not to the degree it's written about in the actual series. 
> 
> About Teen Wolf: SSN6 hasn't aired and I'm just sort of ignoring it as a whole. The show is set post SSN5. 
> 
> I'm not sure how well this is going to work, or who might even want to read this, but I'm putting it out there because why not.

Stiles didn’t want to be in South Carolina.  He didn’t want to be attending Palmetto State University.  His plan, his _vision_ was for all of them to be attending school somewhere near the bay area in upstate Cali.  Stiles didn’t like being so far away from the pack, from Scott, from the only friends he had that could understand what the hell he’d been through.

Another part of him was desperately thankful for the second chance Coach Wymack offered him.

Stiles had started playing exy freshman year because Scott wanted to join the team and he didn’t want to be alone.  His ADD made it difficult to pay attention, then threats of the supernatural made it worse.  His stats sucked and he had next to no stamina. 

When Coach Wymack came to Beacon Hills to ask him onto their team, he confusedly asked why. 

Stiles had never paid attention to college exy.  The only professional sport he watched was baseball.  He didn’t care about the sport.  He cared about making his dad proud, in the beginning, and he cared about surviving, towards the end. 

Wymack had said one of their own had picked him out.  The tape and letter Finstock sent him were enough to convince Wymack that Stiles was a tactician on the field.  He could win games because he could see patterns others might miss. 

The Coach also reminded Stiles the only reason the kid hadn’t been in juvie was because his dad was the Sheriff.  Stiles had a complicated paper trail of psychological health and dropped arrests and one restraining order.  “I like to give my players a second chance.”

“I’d rather have a second chance where not everybody is as fucked up as me.”

He told Stiles to give it a night before signing.  In that time, Stiles did what he does best.  Obsessively research.  He learned all about Palmetto State.  The controversies of last year.  How Neil Josten was the son of a mob boss.  How Kevin Day’s hand had been broken the year previously by his foster brother.  How that foster brother killed himself after losing the championship game.  Things didn’t quite add up, though.  He kept looking. 

When Wymack came to find out his answer the next day, Stiles had to ask how big of a problem the yakuza were likely to be.  Stiles didn’t need more drama in his life. 

Wymack seemed to blanche at the question.  Mostly because Stiles took him off guard.  No one knew the involvement outside of the Foxes.  No one was supposed to. 

“I think that chapter is closed, for the most part.  Just don’t talk to outsiders about it.”

Stiles smirked and shook his head.  “I know how to keep a secret.”

The Foxes were perhaps as fucked up as him, Stiles thought, but none of them seemed to be werewolves.  Or other.  Stiles had even looked up the ley lines of that area.  There were no major crossings.  Nothing even close to Beacon Hills.  It wouldn’t call to supernatural creatures.  It was safe.

Now Stiles sat among the other troubled youths, waiting for the last few teammates to arrive.  He’d only just gotten there after doing a cursory unpacking in an otherwise empty bedroom suite.  Stiles recognized everybody from his research except the two freshmen girls.  Stiles hadn’t found time to even look at the names of the recruits when they had been released publicly.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Allison asked flippantly.  Something in his gut crunched when he looked at her.  Her name was Allison, which was heartache enough.  But her long blonde curls and perfect red lipstick was a cutting reminder of Erica. 

“A nickname,” he bit back. 

Matt snorted.  He was another pain in Stiles’s chest, knowing every time they were on the field Stiles would see the name Boyd on the back of his jersey.  “What kind of nickname is Stiles?” the tall backliner asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes and didn’t respond.  The NCAA had accepted Stiles as his first name despite all paperwork written in his legal one.  No one could even fathom how to pronounce it when they saw it, so it wasn’t much of a hardship to accept the nickname.  Stiles had thought a few times about legally changing it, but it was a tie to his mother, and he could never give that up.

Stiles let his eyes roam his teammates.  You could learn a lot from tapes of games and interviews, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing them in person.  Their co-captain, 5th year Dan Wilds.  She was obviously in a romantic relationship with Matt Boyd.  Allison Reynolds was casually wearing a skin tight dress and spiked heels, which said a lot about her priorities, but did nothing to diminish her deadliness on the field.  Renee seemed sweet, smiling and talking to the freshmen girls.  The freshmen were, in contrast, awkward and distant. 

Nicky was jubilant, to say the least.  Trying to start conversation with everyone and diffuse any sudden tensions.  Kevin reminded Stiles too much of Jackson.  He was all smiles and charm on the camera, but his real face for his teammates was aggressive and serious.  The twins were oddly in sync.  But unlike Ethan and Aiden, their energies weren’t working together.  Every time one shifted, the other shifted further away.  So minor, anyone would miss it.  News articles said they protected each other.  Aaron had even killed someone in defense of Andrew.  But there were mountains of problems between them.  That much was obvious to Stiles at a first glance.

But then there was Neil and Andrew.  Stiles had tried for a good look at Neil’s scars on the few tapes from his last match against Edgar Allen that spring.  Now he got a better look at the marks on his face, it was clear they were only knife wounds.  Nothing supernatural marked his face, at least. It was interesting how Neil and Andrew were in tune with each other.  It reminded him almost of himself and Scott, but there was something deeper to it.  Andrew gently nudged Neil’s knee with his own.

They were intimate. 

Andrew muttered something in German and Neil responded in kind.

Stiles dismissed that for the arm bands the pair wore.  Neil’s were a simple black, but there was something slightly off about Andrew's.  As Stiles stared, he finally got it.  When he looked up to Andrew’s face, the Junior goalie was glaring at him.  Andrew was carrying knives.

Stiles told himself it wasn’t his problem.  As long as nothing supernatural was going on, he wasn’t going to get involved.  Wymack had been insistent that the big issues of his team were already addressed.  Aaron’s trial was over a month ago and he got cleared of all charges.  That should be the last of it.

The last thing that needed law enforcement, at least.

Stiles told himself again to let it go.

The door to the lounge opened again.  They were only waiting on three freshmen.  Stiles had been itching to open his phone and search their names, but he figured it could wait.  When he saw a familiar face enter, he rethought his actions.

Stiles was on his feet in seconds and crossing the room.  “Kira!”  He could feel his reaction startle the rest of the team, but he ignored it for the friend he hadn’t seen in a year. 

“Stiles?” she balked, eyes wide but happy.

They went in for a hug but froze up last second.  There was a sea of murmurs behind them that Stiles ignored.  He pulled Kira to the side to garner them any type of privacy the wall of the hallway could provide.

“How are you?” Stiles asked, not even taking a breath before he continued.  “Does Scott know you’re back?  How did you even get recruited?  Weren’t you in, you know, the desert?”

Kira blinked a few times before answering.  “In control.  No.  Ask Wymack.  And actually I’ve been in New York since January.”

Stiles gaped at her.  “And you didn’t come back?”

She sent him a dark look.  It looked almost cute on her face.  “I needed time to recover, Stiles.  I needed time away from Beacon Hills.  You must, too.  Otherwise you wouldn’t have left California.”

Stiles shut down at that accusation.  It was true.  Kira looked past him and gestured to the lounge.  “Come on, let’s join the others.  We can talk later.”  Stiles nodded and followed her.

The entire room was silent, staring at them.  “So,” Nicky grinned, “I’m guessing you two know each other.”

Kira and Stiles looked at each other and then back to the room.  “You could say that,” Stiles said. 

“And how did neither of you know who was on this team?” Kevin asked, affronted.  “All the names have been released for months.” 

Stiles snorted.  “Been busy.”  He didn’t look at anyone as he sat down, trying to shake off memories of their last supernatural encounter.  No one prodded further. 

“He wouldn’t have known anyway,” Kira said.  “I took my dad’s name.”

Stiles startled at that.  “Your dad didn’t even take your dad’s name.”

“Later,” Kira told him.

Stiles settled back into his chair.  Whatever went down in the desert with the skin walkers must have been earth shaking, no pun intended. 

“And what about you?” Nicky asked Kira.  “How come you didn’t know the freshmen lineup?”

Kira glanced to Stiles.  He could tell that just because she had been back to the land of the living and away from Beacon Hills, it hadn’t meant her life was suddenly full of free time. She looked back to Nicky.  “Been busy.”

Suddenly, Stiles realized and looked up at Kira with glee.  “Oh my god,” he whispered.  “You’re a Fox.”  He saw her cheeks heat up and Stiles laughed, a bold sound bordering on hysterical.  “You’re on the fucking Foxes.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” she snapped, but Kira was smiling too.

“In case you didn’t notice, you’re also a fox,” Dan glared. 

Stiles waved him off.  “Not an insult,” he insured her.  He just gestured to Kira wishing he could share this moment of irony.  “Just her.”

The door opened again and Wymack ushered in one of the last two freshmen.  “Last one’s flight got delayed.  Abby’s bringing him straight from the airport.  I’m giving you all two o’clock move in times next year.  This is ridiculous.” Stiles looked past him to the tall guy with a mop of bronze curls on his head and too sharp cheek bones, the handsome bastard.

They locked eyes and both started talking at once.

“I hoped I was hallucinating your name.  I don’t know if I’m more surprised that you got into a Class I Division or that you’re still alive!” Isaac Layhey scoffed at the same moment Stiles flailed his arms and shouted, “Oh, come on!  Is my entire past here to haunt me?  When were you even back in the States?”

Everyone blinked at their outburst. 

Kira raised her hand to her face in a little, shy wave.  “Hi, Isaac.”

He blinked and looked at her.  “Kira?  You’re Kira Nang now?”  She nodded. 

Wymack looked between the two boys.  “Is this going to be a problem?” he asked, glaring a bit.  “You two are rooming with each other.”

Stiles could already feel a headache growing. He glared at Isaac and weighed the pros and cons.  There were two people here now that he could bring up any disturbances.  One of which he sort of hated. 

“Guys,” Kira said softly.

Finally, Stiles shrugged.  He figured if Isaac kept his scarfs on his own side of the room, they shouldn’t have a problem.  “Just don’t tell me Jackson is on the lineup because then I might walk out of here right now.”

Isaac shook his head.  “No, Jackson’s still in London.”

The neutral tone was enough to assuage Wymack and he left for his office with a “Don’t kill anyone,” tossed over his shoulder. 

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked.

Isaac shrugged.  “We still keep in touch.”

Stiles scoffed.  “What?  You became friends with Whittemore?  When did that happen?”

Isaac shrugged again, but sort of hunched in on himself this time.  Stiles recognized that posture and hated himself for making Isaac regress.  “He felt guilty not going to the police sooner.”

Stiles nodded solemnly.  “Yeah, okay.”  In an effort to shake the hostility, Stiles asked where Isaac had finished school.

“Nebraska,” he offered.  “Lakemont Prep.”

“What’s in Nebraska?” Stiles asked, wondering what could have brought Isaac away from France.

“Derek,” he said.  Stiles’s breath caught in his throat.  He tried to ignore the way everyone in the room was staring at him like the newest puzzle to solve.

“Right,” Stiles bit out.  He clenched his jaw and looked away. 

The room grew silent after that.  After a few heartbeats, someone whispered that this was going to be a long season.  Stiles couldn’t agree more. 

When Abby showed up twenty minutes later with their last freshman, Stiles relaxed knowing he wasn’t someone he knew.  Isaac shook his head subtly, indicating it wasn’t anyone supernatural either. 

Perhaps this wasn’t too much to get through, and enough still for a fresh start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I know next to nothing has happened yet, but the introductions took longer than I expected. 
> 
> I'm probably going to switch back and forth between Stiles and Neil, but I haven't decided yet. It will depend on how confident I am in writing from Neil's POV. 
> 
> I also can't promise how often I will update. I have some real people duties that take up a lot of my writing time.


	2. week one

Less than a week into summer practice and Stiles was about ready to pack his bags.  There were times, in Beacon Hills, where life was normal.  When nothing was trying to kill them and he and Scott were able to play exy for fun.  The difference here was that there was no Scott and this was not fun.  Stiles was right to be worried about Kevin being like Jackson.  He wasn’t even a captain and he was relentless.  Stiles’s arms were always sore and he never slept enough, although the latter had been true for the last two and a half years.

This was why Stiles broke into Coach Wymack’s office after hours to try and figure out why exactly he had been recruited onto this team.  Stiles stared at the letter Finstock wrote, trying to force his brain to process the words one more time.  Perhaps this time he would read it as something different.

There was sound from the hallway and Stiles startled, banging his knee on the table.  He cursed under his breath as the clank echoed.  Stiles scrambled for the light, half frantically looking for a place to hide while the rest of his brain knew it was too late.  Kevin’s voice was angrily asking who was there, but it was Andrew who banged the door open and flipped the main light back on.

Stiles sighed in resignation and sat back down in Wymack’s chair.  “Hey guys.”

Andrew, Kevin, and Neil all stood in the doorway.  “What the fuck are you doing in here, Stilinski?”

“Oh, please,” Stiles scoffed.  “Don’t act so righteous.  It’s not like you didn’t break into my shit the first day.”  Stiles had luckily had all his incriminating items on him at the time.  He didn’t want to know what they would think about his stash of mountain ash and wolf’s bane.  “Find anything good?”

Andrew looked bored, but quirked his head in a way that Stiles read as intrigued.  Stiles did, after all, have experience with stoic assholes. 

“Did you?” Andrew asked back. 

Stiles looked between the three older boys and knew he wasn’t going to be able to just slip away.  Instead he pushed the folder forward that still had Finstock’s letter at the top.

“Was trying to figure out why Coach picked me.  There had to be better delinquents to choose from,” Stiles said.

“There were,” Kevin snipped back.  He had chewed out Stiles any chance he got about not being good enough.

“He’s about as good as I was when I started last year,” Neil said, giving Kevin a look.

Kevin scoffed.  “But you care.  Come on, gear up.”  He left for the locker room, a silent command for Neil to follow. 

Neil looked between Stiles and Andrew for a moment, taking stock of Andrew’s relaxed shoulders.  After a moment Neil muttered something in German and walked away.

And Stiles was left with Andrew.

It wasn’t that Andrew was intimidating.  Andrew was short.  Broad, and had powerful muscles that let him hit back anything that got close to his goal, but he was still really tiny.  And compared to the strength and anger of werewolves, Stiles honestly wasn’t really afraid.

“So your dad kicked you out,” Andrew finally said, digging into where he knew he’d get a reaction. 

Stiles gritted his teeth.  “You don’t know shit.”

Andrew almost smirked, the closest thing to a facial expression Stiles had seen from him.  Stiles pulled the file back turned to the open file cabinet.

“Or maybe when Wymack called your dad he could hear how the bastard abused you in his voice.”

Stiles stilled his fingers as he searched for his file’s place.  The accusation was almost laughable, but the fact that Andrew was trying to get a reaction out of him screamed a protective streak that was really surprising.  “Just because you didn’t have a decent parent, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.”

Stiles slipped his file into place and turned around.  Andrew was inches away.  He reeled back, hip slamming into the cabinet, as Andrew reached up and grasped Stiles’s jaw.  He wasn’t afraid, but Stiles also wasn’t stupid enough to think he could win this fight.

Andrew jerked Stiles’s head to this side.  “When I first saw this I thought you were an insane fan boy,” Andrew said.  Stiles wasn’t sure what he was talking about at first, but then Andrew took his other hand and traced the mark behind his ear.  “You wanted to be number five on Riko’s perfect fucking court.  But this isn’t a tattoo, is it?”

“It’s not the number five, either,” Stiles spat.  He jerked his head to get it out of Andrew’s grip but was unsuccessful.  “Let go of me.”

Andrew let go and held his hands up, although his eyes screamed challenge.  _Try to leave before I say you can, I dare you_.   

“It looks like you were branded,” Andrew said.  “What is it?”

Stiles touched the spot behind his ear.  In some ways it had been a source of comfort after the nogitusne was gone.  He was himself.  As time went on, it just became a reminder that any of it happened at all.

“It’s irrelevant,” Stiles said.  “My history is not related to the shit that happened to this team last year.  So you can drop it.”

Andrew gave Stiles a look over before finally turning.  “Get out of here before I hit you.”

Stiles stared at the empty doorway for a few moments before finally stealing himself.  He made sure the office was exactly the way he left it.  He wasn’t sure if Kevin would rat on him.  Andrew and Neil weren’t likely to say anything.  Either way, Stiles made sure to cover his tracks. 

He shut the door behind him and made his way to the court.  He stood in the player’s pen for a few moments, just watching the three older boys drill exercises.  Kevin was right.  It didn’t matter if he was as skilled as Neil was this time last year.  He didn’t care about exy the way those guys did.  He would never be that good.

A ball bounced against the plexiglass in front of Stiles’s face.  It startled him to look up and see Andrew glaring from the goal line.  Neil and Kevin turned to see Stiles watching.  He stayed for a few more seconds, debating whether or not join them, or say something. 

In the end, he just left. 

It was a twenty minute walk back to the dorms and his roommates were asleep by the time he slipped in.  Isaac stirred at the sudden light form the hallway.

“What the fuck are you doing up, Stiles?” he mumbled.  “We have practice at seven.”

“Go back to sleep, Isaac.”

Stiles laid down and tried to make his brain stop long enough to fall asleep.  Even when the alarm went off, Stiles wasn’t sure if he was successful.

X

The whistle blew and Coach Wymack yelled at Stiles to get his head in the game, which immediately sent his brain on a tailspin of High School Musical.  Allison stick checked him when his eyes went distant, which was offensive because she was on Stiles’s team for the scrimmage. 

“You want Kevin to stop yelling at you all the time?” Allison snapped.  “Try paying the fuck attention when you play.  Okay?”

She was an enigma.  Allison was lofty around the dorms but a solid wall of aggression on the field.  Either setting, her lipstick never smudged.    

When Wymack finally called it quits for the day, Stiles was once again contemplating just packing his bags and heading home.

He couldn’t, logically.  He knew that.  Stiles wanted to quit but he had signed a contract that would be more hassle that it was worth to back out of.  And with the mountains of medical bills at home, the only way Stiles could afford college was with this scholarship.  Between his brain scan, his dad’s hospital stint after Jennifer, and again after being poisoned by scorpion kanima, plus the drop ins after a couple of car crashes, Stiles needed to make things as financially easy on his father as possible.  With the foxes he got free food, free education, free housing. 

He just wished the price of all that free stuff wasn’t so torturous.

“You know,” Isaac said, leaning over his stick and looking down at him, “you’re actually not that bad.”

Stiles wheezed.  “Was that a compliment?”

Isaac shook his head.  “I mean, you’re not good enough for Class I,” he snipped.  “But you’re about the same level Jackson was at when he was captain of the cyclones.  You probably never noticed your improvement with such a big learning curve.”  He waggled his brow up and down.  Fucking werewolves.

Stiles looked over his team.  He was the weak link; he was sure of it.  While he could keep up with them with his quips and snark, Isaac was right.  He wasn’t Class I material.  As Wymack blew his whistle and motioned them all off the court, Stiles couldn’t help but fixate.  Why him?

In the locker room, Stiles was quick to shower and change.  The shower stalls were convenient to prevent lingering eyes, but he didn’t feel the need completely to hide his scars the way Neil so obviously did.  Stiles was just fast about it.  No one said anything, at least not to his face.  Isaac had informed him on day one of practice that there were bets on how he got all of them.  Stiles had asked if he got the money if none of them were right, since none of them would be.

Abby had wanted to ask about them, during his physical, but she knew to keep quiet.  It was clear, though, in her pinched expression.

Some were visible outside his clothes.   He had three lines on the back of his neck from kanima tails.  Plus, a curve of claw marks from when Scott went diving to pull him out of the nogitsune’s mind trap.  There were three faint marks around his temple.  Two from different car crashes.  One from when Erica had bashed a piece of his car into his skull.  Plus the kanji burned into his skin behind his ear. 

But when he took off the shirt, that’s when people noticed.  He had a pucker of skin from where glass had lodged itself into his chest.  A thick scar across his left bicep from Tracy’s tail.  What looked like lightning was forever raised on his right shoulder blade when he was fighting the thing inside him so desperately.  There were faint claw marks on his back from Malia.  She always liked digging her nails in, and on a few occasions they weren’t nails.  It always, predictably, killed the mood and she spent the rest of the night cleaning the cuts up and apologizing.  Actually, Stiles had a lot of pock marks from the pack grabbing him too tightly without realizing it.  Wolfed out and throwing him out of harm’s way, fighting for control on a full moon, just flat out being dicks and showing off how much stronger they were. Casual things.

But they were _strange_ scars.  He understood the looks because they weren’t easily identifiable.  They couldn’t put his history together by staring at what other people did to him. 

Stiles didn’t care that they looked.  But he never wanted to make it seem like they had permission to bring it up.  He didn’t have good excuses for any of them.  Except for the car crash and the time Parrish flipped his Jeep.

Stiles was first out the locker room, like always.  The court was far enough away from the dorm that they drove there.  Stiles missed his Jeep but he wasn’t able to fix it more than enough to put around town.  If he had tried to drive it all the way to PSU, it would have left him stranded in the desert.  Again.  He could wait for a ride or take the time to walk and be by himself.  It was already suffocating being around so many of the same people every day.

The parking lot looked like a contest for how flashy the team could be.  Matt had the only practical car with a giant truck.  But even that was a really, really nice truck.  Allison’s Mercedes’s was parked between Andrew’s Maserati and Isaac’s Camaro.  The first time Stiles saw Derek’s old car he had to stop himself from looking around for the older werewolf.  Stiles stared at it now and couldn’t find it in him to just keep walking. 

The door opened behind him and Stiles turned to see Sheena, the freshman dealer sub other than Kira.  She was tall, Native American, and after getting over her initial nerves was a hardheaded bitch most of the time.  Jack, the other striker sub, trailed out after her.  Those two were getting along famously.  As in, the both thought they were the best exy players in the universe, thereby making Stiles scum on the bottom of their shoes.

Their arrival was enough to push him forward.  He wasn’t going to wait for Isaac to drive him back with Kira and he sure as hell wasn’t going to jump in the back of Matt’s truck with the rest of the freshmen. 

The walk between the court and the dorm took him through a part of campus before veering off up the hill to Fox Tower.  Stiles had memorized the map of the university, but it was one thing to know the layout and another to recognize the buildings he was going through.  Stiles spent a little bit of his free time each day just meandering the half deserted campus.  Most people were home for the summer, but there were still a few classes running and a lot of other athletes around. 

He stopped into the library.  It had summer hours and was often about to close by the time he got out of practice, but he still took the few minutes he could to just breathe in the scent of books.  It was so much bigger than his high school library.  A certifiable fortress of paper and ink.  When the staff at the circulation desk nodded towards the exit, effectively being kicked out, Stiles sighed and left.  The moment he stepped back outside a car horn honked.  Stiles startled. 

Andrew’s flashy car was idling on the curb.  His arm was leaning against the open window frame and he looked as bored as ever.  The back seat opened and Nicky jumped out.  “Get in!” he called. 

Stiles eyed them.  From what he gathered about Andrew’s little gang was that they were rather exclusive.  Also, the car should already be full.  In the far seat sat Kevin, put off and looking out the other window.  “Where’s Aaron?” Stiles asked.

Nicky waved that off and gestured for him to get in again.  “Date night,” he finally said.  Stiles knew about Aaron and Katlyn.  It was a source of much gossip by Allison and Dan that Kira had somehow got sucked into.  Kira relayed everything that was going on to Stiles and Isaac, who had mostly isolated themselves to their room. 

“I’ll walk, thanks,” Stiles scoffed.   

 He continued on his way, but Nicky was quick enough to bar his way. 

“Not a request,” Andrew said from the driver’s seat. 

“Just get in,” Nicky pleaded.  Stiles looked from Nicky to Andrew, wondering how far he could get past Nicky before Andrew got out and tackled him.  Andrew was a fair runner, but Stiles was faster. 

“Stiles,” Neil said, leaning over Andrew from the passenger seat.  “Get in, please.”

Stiles tracked the scars on Neil’s face.  His eyes were always a little lost, a little disbelieving and distant.  But Neil was a good guy, Stiles knew that instinctually. 

Against better judgement, Stiles hugged his bag and slid into the middle seat, Nicky climbing in after.

“Okay, I’ve got the five minutes to Fox Tower to explain,” Nicky stared.  “And because I’m the most linguistic of the bunch, it is my duty to explain why we are taking you out tonight.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow.  This had to be good.  He looked over to Andrew, trying to gauge him for any reaction, any tell as to what his agenda was.  The angle was odd, but Stiles doubted he would have gotten anything anyways.

“You see, Neil here, bleeding heart that he is, wants the foxes to be one big happy family,” Nicky grinned, poking Neil gently on the shoulder.  “And the freshmen have disrupted what little even footing we were able to find and the end of the season.”

“And instead of two groups, you have four,” Stiles surmised. 

It was obvious how the older Foxes were split between Dan, Matt, Allison, Renee and Andrew, Neil, Kevin, Nicky, Aaron.  There was some overlay, of course.  Renee and Andrew had a weird friendship going on.  Neil was good friends with Matt and close enough to the rest of that group.  Nicky also liked hanging out with the people closer to his own age, and Aaron and Andrew had enough problems with each other that Aaron often sought refuge with the older group.

Kevin, predictably, didn’t care about anyone outside of exy. 

The freshmen, however, screwed with that.  It was Jack, Sheena, and Ash versus Stiles, Kira, and Isaac.  As much as Stiles and Isaac didn’t get along, their shared secret grounded them together and Jack was a bigger asshole than either of them wanted to put up with.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to Kira then?” Stiles asked.  “If anyone can bridge the gap, it’s her.”

Kira hovered around Stiles and Isaac, but she was really friendly with the girls she roomed with.  It would make more sense for her to bring the whole freshmen crew together and then integrate them with the older team.

Nicky grinned at him.  “Maybe.  But you’re more interesting.”  The way Nicky said it made Stiles think those weren’t his words.  “We want to get to know you first.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  They had parked outside the dorms, but Stiles was boxed in by Nicky and a reluctant Kevin. 

“So what do you say,” Nicky grinned.  “Are you in or do we have to force you?”

“Are you going to let me out of the car?”

“Not until you agree to come out with us tonight,” Neil said from the front, his voice light and the demand still somehow sounding like a hopeful offer. 

“Can’t,” Stiles said simply.  “Have a Skype call I’ve had scheduled all week.”

There was a rap on the window.  They all looked over to see Isaac standing outside the car.  He was a menacing figure when he wanted to be. 

Nicky slipped out of the car, waving Stiles to follow.  “We'll pick you up at nine, then.”

Stiles walked away from the stupid nice car as fast as he could without looking like he was running. 

“Since when do you hang around with them?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t,” Stiles replied.  Kira was waiting for both of them at the door to the Fox Tower.  “Come on,” he told her.  “I have to call Scott and I’m not going to hide the fact that you’re on this team.  He’ll find out as soon as we get media coverage anyway.  You need to talk to him.”  Stiles looked over his shoulder at Isaac.  “You, too.  If you want.”

Isaac smiled, a soft thing.  Stiles didn’t know how much Scott and Isaac had kept in touch since he left.  He didn’t begrudge their friendship if they were able to keep it.  If Stiles had learned anything from living in Beacon Hills, it was that it was good to have friends.

He wasn’t sure what Andrew and his gang were, but friends wasn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gah! sorry it took so long. I essentially rewrote the entire chapter twice. I've been struggling to find the story's voice, but I think I'm getting it :) Thank you all the people who are excited about this! I wasn't sure how many fic readers there would be who were apart of both fandoms, or would even want this if they were. It's really exciting. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I have so much more in store for you. If I can just figure out how to type it all out. 
> 
> And yes, the entirety of Finstock's letter will be revealed later.


	3. a truth

Isaac hovered in the background with Kira as Stiles booted up his computer.  All week they had been avoiding the topic of “back in Beacon Hills,” but the willful ignorance couldn’t last forever.  Stiles fidgeted as he waited for his call with Scott to connect, glancing back at Isaac and Kira every few moments.  Jack was in the bedroom, so they wouldn’t be able to talk about any of the supernatural stuff, but maybe that was for the better.

Stiles didn’t waste time once Scott was on the other line.  They talked for all of two minutes before Scott caught on that not everything was okay.  “I need you to meet a couple of my teammates,” Stiles told him. 

When Stiles stood and pushed Kira into the desk chair, the couple stared at each other wordlessly.  After a few awkward moments of hoping Scott would ask or Kira would offer, Isaac bent his head down to get on screen and waved.

“Hey, Scott,” he said sheepishly.

“Isaac!” Scott cried, taking the distraction of Kira's appearance with gusto.  “What are…” he trailed off.

Stiles cleared his throat.  “My new teammates,” Stiles said.

Just then Jack walked out of the bedroom.

“Speaking of, this is our other roommate, Jack.  He's an asshole, so ignore his face as he _walks on by_ ,” Stiles spat.

Jack took one look at the screen, eyes catching every detail including Scott’s exy racquet and the the stereotypical college banner that of course Scott would have hung up in his room. Then he marched out of the room and announced loudly that Stiles was trading secrets with the enemy.

Stiles threw his hands up in surrender.  “That fucking piece of shit.”

Seconds later Dan, Kevin, Neil, and Andrew were all barging into Stiles's suite, taking in the site of a mostly innocent Skype convo.

Kevin also caught the USC banner.  “Are you talking to a Trojan?” he asked.

The new information lost Andrew’s interest and he turned to leave.  Neil watched him go but was more curious, apparently. 

“Scott, meet more of my incredibly annoying and impossibly nosy team.”  Stiles motioned to the people at the door even though Scott couldn't see that angle.  But Scott already seemed to be back to staring at Kira in silence.  Stiles rolled his eyes, more frustrated that he now had to deal with the rest of the team now.  “Come on Isaac,” Stiles said, tugging the taller boy’s sleeve.  “Let them talk it out.”  Stiles turned to the crowd by the door.  “Move.”  

Something was fundamentally different about Stiles, Isaac thought.  He was still scrappy and willing to put up a fight against anyone who could probably beat him up, he still ran his mouth and shot barbs at anyone who annoyed him.  He still had his eye out for any type of danger and got obsessive quick (Stiles had spent the first three nights here reading everything he could get his hands on about the three other freshmen.  Isaac assumed Stiles had already done his research on the older teammates).  He was still Stiles, but Isaac had avoided the aftermath of the nogitsune. 

Chris had offered him an out and Isaac took it without a look back.

So, for all that Stiles was still Stiles, he seemed a lot darker than he used to.  He was less like a kid who stumbled into the terrifying world of the supernatural and more like a soldier who came out the other end of a war and wasn’t sure what to do with himself anymore.

Whatever part of Stiles that was, whatever haunted warrior he had become, it was enough to get their teammates to follow his command with little protest.  Isaac slipped out with them and shut the door to give Kira and Scott some privacy.  He tried his best to not listen in.

“If your friend is anything like you, Jeremy made some mistake letting him on the team,” Kevin scoffed.

Stiles bristled next to him.  “Yeah, I get it, I’m a mistake.  I shouldn’t be here.  Blah, blah, blah.  But Scott deserves better than you shits.  The goody-two-shoes Trojans is the perfect place for him.”

“Plus, Scott’s a much better player,” Isaac added, earning himself a glare. 

“Thanks, Isaac.”

“Just stating a fact,” Isaac grinned. 

“Figures we would get the dud,” Jack snarled.  “Can I go back in my own room now?”

Isaac straightened to his full height.  From the snippets of conversation he was tuning into, Isaac was going to make sure no one interrupted Kira and Scott. 

Jack threw his hands up and marched away, barging into the girl’s room to loudly complain to Sheena. 

Dan and Matt still stood there, looking them over.  “You going to share all our training secrets with your boyfriend?”

Stiles laughed.  “Not the first time someone assumed we were dating.  And no.  I can keep our stolen from the Ravens training exercises a secret.”  He rolled his eyes. 

Kevin took that as enough and stomped off. 

“So,” Dan continued, “just to clarify.  You haven’t dated Scott.  And you haven’t dated Kira.”  Dan shifted her eyes between Stiles and Isaac.  “And...?”

Isaac looked to Stiles.  Their eyes caught and they cringed away from each other.  “Ew.” Stiles said.  “No.”

“Good!” Dan cheered, turning to her boyfriend.  “Ante up.” 

Isaac and Stiles watched in amusement as Matt dug out his wallet.  As Matt was pulling out some dollars, Isaac heard a final note inside his dorm.  He nudged Stiles out of the way of the door.   “Argument’s over.”

A few moments later the door opened.  Kira was in tears, a look that made Isaac uncomfortable and Stiles visibly shocked.  She looked between all of them frantically.  “I just need to be alone.  Don’t come after me.” 

Stiles took an aborted step after her before sighing and melting against the wall in defeat.  “I should check on Scott,” he said, ignoring the way the upper classmen stared at them.

“He’s logged off already,” Isaac relayed. 

“Well, I’ll call him back.  Apologize for that clusterfuck.”

As Stiles turned to march back into their dorm, Nicky bounded down the hall from the room he shared with Matt and Aaron.  “Oh, good, Stiles!  I caught you.  I wanted to give you this,” he presented Stiles with a bundle of dark clothes which Stiles didn’t take.

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“For tonight,” Nicky said, as if this were obvious. 

From behind him, Dan shrieked.  “No!  The Monsters aren’t taking out and corrupting any freshmen.  That is an order from your captain!”  She crossed her arms defiantly.  “Also, you owe me twenty bucks.  Stiles never dated Kira or Isaac.”

“We aren’t corrupting him,” Nicky protested, shoving the bundle of clothes into Stiles’s arms before digging out his wallet.  “We are promoting inter-team relations.”  He handed a crisp twenty over to Dan.  “And you’re co-captain.  This is all Neil’s idea.”

Matt raised a silent eyebrow.

“Well, okay, Andrew and Neil,” Nicky conceded.  “But they’re the same person nowadays.”

“I said no.  You’re not hazing any new teammates.”

Stiles laughed brazenly.  Isaac could feel the contempt.  Like anyone could haze Stiles.  Could haze either of them.  After what they’d been through?  “What if I went with him?” Isaac offered.  “Two against five.”

“Four,” Stiles told him.  “Aaron’s on a date, apparently.”

“Even better odds,” Isaac smiled, something he’d learn to be considered charming in recent years.  He could gain people’s trust easily enough with it.  A helpful skill.

“We don’t have room in the car,” Nicky began.

“I’ll drive,” Isaac said.  He fixed his gaze on Dan.  “If anything really bad happens we have our own way home.”

Matt and Dan looked at each other.  “Better than hitchhiking,” Matt mumbled. 

“I don’t need a chaperone,” Stiles said a bit bitterly.  Isaac only shrugged.

“Fine,” Dan finally conceded before turning on Nikcy, “but I don’t want to hear about any stunt you guys tried to pull, you hear me?  This is a normal night out, with a couple of extra people.  If I find out that you guys drugged them, or forced them to do something they didn’t want to, I swear to god Nicky you will be doing suicides until your legs fall off.”

Nicky gulped and saluted her.  “Sir, yes, Sir,” he muttered before looking Isaac over.  “Do you at least have something to _wear_?”

X

Two hours and many costume changes later until Nicky was finally willing to accept what Isaac was wearing out, Stiles and Isaac followed the sleek Maserati down to Columbia.

They drove in silence for a chunk of time before it finally got on Isaac’s nerves.  It surprised him that Stiles could be quiet for so long.  “Why’d they invite you out?” Isaac asked, glaring at the car in front of them.  “As far as I could see, these assholes stick with themselves.”

Stiles shrugged.  “They read my profile.  Think I’m interesting enough to keep an eye on.”

“Your profile?” Isaac asked with a dry laugh.  “What, did it tell them you were once possessed by an evil spirit?”

Stiles tightened his grip on his own arms.  “Finstock told Wymack that I needed to get out of Beacon Hills and this was the only way I would and if he needed proof of my Foxes qualification to please call my dad.”

“So?” Isaac said.

Stiles shook his head.  “It’s the way it was phrased.  My dad _sent_ me here.  He kicked me out, Isaac.”

Isaac wanted badly to look over and study Stiles’s face.  The Sheriff wasn’t the type of man to kick anyone out.  But Beacon Hills was a nightmare come to life.  “If you hadn’t come here, where would you be?”

“Still in Beacon Hills, probably.  I wouldn’t be able to afford college anyway.”

“Don’t you think that’s why he did it, then?”

“You don’t get it, Isaac,” Stiles said morosely.  “We defeated it.”

“Defeated what?”  They stalled at a stop light after pulling off the highway.  Isaac finally got the chance to look at Stiles.  His eyes were dark and distant, the red light reflecting off them in such a way it almost looked as if they glowed like Derek’s. 

“Defeated Beacon Hills.”  The light turned green and Stiles turned his head to look out the passenger window.  “There was no reason to leave.”

The rest of the ride was silent, Isaac not knowing how to ask what happened.

X

After a quick detour to a dinky diner where Andrew scarfed down a disgusting amount of ice cream, they finally made it to the club.  Stiles had asked why they bothered stopping there first.  Nicky had said they used to get their drugs there before Neil made them quit, but that the ice cream was still really good.

Andrew was able to swing them all free drinks, which Isaac didn’t question.  He had asked for a soda, since the alcohol wouldn’t affect him anyway, but Andrew only glared and put some whisky drink in front of him.  “If you’re going to crash the party, you’re going to drink what I tell you to.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and chugged half the drink in two seconds.  Stiles snorted and grabbed his own drink.  Stiles dipped his finger in the amber liquid and looked mildly surprised when he looked at his nail after.  “I was half expecting that you spike this with something after what Dan said,” Stiles said, sounding mildly impressed. 

Nicky raised an eyebrow.  “We used to.  How’d you know it’s safe?”

Stiles waggled his hand.  “Nail polish.”  He then downed the drink and reached for another on the tray.  “If I’m going to be stuck with you assholes all night, I might as well get drunk.”

Nicky cheered.  “Well there’s something!”  They clinked glasses and drank some more.

It wasn’t long before Nicky abandoned them for the dance floor, Kevin following because he was bored.  Isaac sipped at his second drink, wishing it would do something.  That it could.  Stiles was getting fairly drunk, trading quick quips with Neil and Andrew that simultaneously sounded friendly and biting.  It reminded Isaac of when he and Stiles first started getting to know each other.  Which, of course, ended horribly.  They were only able to stand each other now because they hadn’t been around each other for two years.

“Would you shut up,” Andrew said, voicing Isaac’s thoughts.  “You talk and you talk but you haven’t said a fucking thing.”

Stiles smirked.  “It’s a skill.”

“Give us a truth, Stilinski.”

“Careful,” Neil whispered.  “I might start thinking you like him.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.  “I don’t like liars.”

Stiles leaned over his drink.  “I haven’t lied about a damn thing.  But, you know, if I had, you wouldn’t know.”

Andrew took a sip of his drink.  “If I could see through this one,” he said nodding to Neil, “I’m sure I can see through you, number five.”

Isaac raised his eyebrow, confused.  Stiles’s number was twelve.  Isaac caught sight of Andrew’s gaze though and pieced it together.  The self-mark from the oni was still visible on Stiles’s skin behind the ear.  He and Lydia were the only ones left with the scars.

“You want a truth?” Stiles smirked further.  “Let’s play a game.  Two lies and a truth.  Isaac knows the real answer.  Here we go.”  Stiles downed the rest of his drink and leaned over the table closer to Andrew and full on grinned.  He looked over to Isaac and winked.  “Listen closely.”

Isaac nodded, already trying to tune into Stiles’s heart over the pounding of the club scene.  He wasn’t sure what the idiot was playing at, but he figured he would still play it.

“One, I’ve spent the last three summers with my grandparents in Poland.” 

Isaac wracked his brain trying to remember if Stiles was ever absent the summer they spent searching for Erica and Boyd.  But Stiles’s heart didn’t skip a beat, so he must have gone for at least a week. 

“Two, I’ve never broken a bone in my body.” 

Now this Isaac was sure was a lie.  Stiles had come into school one day in fifth grade with a bright red cast on his arm.  But his heart didn’t stutter.

“Three, I can pass a lie detector test, even when I’m drunk.”

Stiles reached for another drink (Andrew had gotten them refills not long ago) and laughed into its rim before taking a long sip.  “So which one’s the truth?”

Andrew looked him over.  “Three.  People either give the truth away and then stall to think of lies or savor letting their bomb drop.”

“Got me there.” Stiles smiled.  “Other than that?”

“How’d you lie like that,” Isaac asked, truly surprised.

Stiles turned to him, almost as if he had forgotten he was there.  “Born out of necessity, Isaac.  Everyone is a fucking snoop.”

“Snoops in your town take the time to hook you up to a lie detector?” Neil asked.

“Wouldn’t you believe it?” Stiles laughed and leaned in close enough to Andrew that even Isaac had to strain to listen.  “You want a truth?  A real truth?  You don’t have a monopoly on secrets.  You don’t get to know mine.  Just like I’m not going to ask about your poor old mom and that tragic car accident.  Just like I don’t need to know the details about what really went down with the Ravens.  Just like I’m not going to bother you with questions to things you don’t want to answer.  But the biggest truth between us?  Here you go.  You’re not a monster, Andrew.  No matter what people call you.  No matter how hard you try to be.  You’re not even close.”

With that, Stiles leaned back, downed the rest of his drink, and stood up.  “I’m going to go make out with Nicky on the dance floor.”

“He has a boyfriend,” Isaac scoffed, bolting to his feet to follow.

Stiles shrugged.  “Nicky doesn’t care.”

Isaac looked back to Andrew, who seemed just as impassive as ever, but there was a new bitter scent to the air.  Anger.  Truly righteous anger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Isaac's POV? Idk why that happened but it did. 
> 
> Sorry it's taken so long. I've been crazy busy and writing this is really hard for whatever reason. I feel like it's not as strong as my other stuff which is making it harder for me to keep with it, you know? Idk if that makes any sense. 
> 
> Anyway, here you go! Hope you still like it :)


	4. scars

Neil winced as Stiles tried to make a shot at the goal.  He knew what was coming next as the ball arched over towards Andrew. 

Ever since the night at the club, the pair of them had found ways to pick fights with each other without actually calling each other out on anything.  Not the way Jack and Sheena tried to get under his skin, calling him a rookie, not good enough to be co-captain, and all the other annoying stuff.  Stiles flirted with Nicky in front of Andrew.  Andrew tripped Stiles with a ball during practice.  Stiles breaks into their room and leave a fake “how to live with resting bitch face” pamphlet on Andrew’s pillow.  Andrew almost hits Stiles with his car.  Stiles replaced the lock to the roof. 

Andrew hits Stiles’s shot with enough force that it slams into Stiles’s stomach and knocks the wind out of him. 

Wymack blew the whistle and started yelling at Andrew.  “Stop trying to handicap your own team, Minyard!” 

Dan raced over to Stiles, helping him to his feet.  “How bad is it?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles wheezed. 

Matt rolled his eyes.  “You can barely breath, man.”

“Just give me a minute,” Stiles wheezed again.

Neil jogged over, letting Andrew get berated for his actions.  Despite being co-captain, he rarely was asked to deal with Andrew since it would be “manipulation” and “above Coach’s paygrade” to use tactics like that. 

“Kevin won’t like you lying about your health if it affects your ability to play,” Matt told Stiles, who was struggling to stretch himself to full height.  “Just ask Neil.”

 “Kevin doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me,” Stiles said, his voice already sounding stronger. 

Neil shook his head.  “He may not like the fact that you’re on this team, but the fact that you are means he cares.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said.

“Good, we got two of them,” Matt huffed. 

Isaac had just reached them, having been on the other side of the field.  Stiles was mostly standing upright, but the tall, lanky kid clapped their hands together and placed another on Stiles’s back.  Stiles sucked in a lungful of air and blinked a bit rapidly before letting Isaac’s hand go. 

“Thanks man,” Stiles smiled.

Stiles picked up his stick and looked at the crowd that had formed like they were crazy.  “What?  I’m all good.  Let’s get back to the match.”

He good naturedly stick-checked Isaac before running to his position. 

“Matt’s right,” Dan said to Neil.  “He’s you, but talkative and false cheer.”

Isaac shook his head.  “Don’t try and pry.  You won’t get the full story and he doesn’t need any reminders.”  Isaac had proven himself to be the one with a level head out of all of the freshmen, so Dan took his word for it and went to start the scrimmage up again.

Neil understood the need for privacy, the compulsion to hide things.  Dan was right, he and Stiles had a lot in common.  It was one of the reasons Stiles got underneath Andrew’s skin, as much as Andrew refused to admit it.  Because unlike Neil, who had been fairly obviously hiding a history (changing in the stalls, owning next to nothing, colored contacts, dyed hair, not knowing how to respond to kind gestures), Stiles was able to hide behind an onslaught of words.  He could jump into any conversation and was getting on fairly well with the upper classmen, but any ounce of who he was, what his life had been, anything that mattered, was talked around so expertly you wouldn’t even notice you never got your answer until hours later.

Stiles was an expert at hiding things.  Better than Neil himself.  Andrew didn’t like surprises.  He wanted to control as much as he could so that he could make sure that the people he chose to care about stayed safe.  Out of all of the new kids, Stiles was the one who had an air about him that his history could end up stabbing them in the back.

Neil looked over to Kira, who was hanging by the mid field line.  She’d be number two on Andrew’s list, but she wasn’t annoying so Kira never got brought up.  She was clumsy and adorable.  A good player who seemed to sometimes spook herself on the field and dodge or freeze when she should have charged and hit.  Kira stuck close to Stiles and Isaac, out of familiarity, but they didn’t talk much.  She answered questions about herself, the only one that remained a secret was why she had changed her last name.  “I needed to become my own person,” she had told them, “and I couldn’t do that living in my mother’s shadow.”  That could mean anything, really.  She seemed too sweet, though, to trigger any of Andrew’s alarms other than the fact she and Stiles had shared life experiences.  Whatever they were.

None of them ever actually talked about Beacon Hills.  It was amazing how they could sometimes reference an event or a place or a person and immediately switch subjects.

Right now, Kira looked as if she was going to break her exy stick with how tight she was holding it.  Stiles shouted her name and she startled, reflexively tossing the stick in the air briefly before catching it again.  This happened sometimes, always with serious concern in Stiles’s eye and Kira being even more jittery on the field for the next few minutes.  Whatever the problem was, that was the only one that mattered to Neil. 

None of Stiles’s drama affected his game.  Other than his taunting Andrew, that is.  But Kira’s… that was something he needed to get to the bottom of.

Neil was hypervigilant waiting for the end of practice.  On top of the Andrew/Stiles issue, they had started classes last week.  Schoolwork on top of the constant antagonism from Jack and Sheena, and just all the work it took to be co-captain was starting to fry his nerves.  He couldn’t thank Matt enough for his constant support on the field.  But finally the whistle blew and they were sent packing.

Neil had never actually seen Stiles change out before.  The kid was quick about it and was always clothed and half out the door by the time Neil returned from changing in the shower stalls.  Today, though, whatever second wind Stiles had managed to finish practice had left him and he had taken longer to get his gear off than usual and longer still in the shower.  Neil was packing his bag when Stiles joined them in the locker room. 

An almost perfectly circular black bruise spotted his ribcage from where Andrew had hit him. 

“Jesus, Andrew,” Kevin complained, “the kid can barely play.  We don’t need him in worse shape.”  Kevin was on edge more than usual as they ramped up for their first game that weekend.

Stiles bit back that it was just a bruise.  That it was nothing.

And according to the scars that littered his body, he was right, it was nothing.

Neil had heard about Stiles’s scars from his teammates, but it was another to see them in person.  They were right.  The scars were impossible to understand.  Some were obvious.  Cut marks, some type of knife slashed fairly shallowly on his neck and back.  They could have been papercuts compared to the knife marks Neil had across his stomach.  But it was everything else, the bits that made it look like he had been thrown into the ring at a dog fight, that made Neil really wonder what it was this guy had been through.

Then Stiles was pulling on his shirt and it was as if none of it had ever happened.  Neil looked down at his own arms, clad in the black bands Andrew had gotten him to cover the cuts and burns from Lola and his dad’s crew.  He envied Stiles, in a way, that he could just bare to the world the memories of what had to be terrible events, while Neil wished there was a way to cover up the burn marks by his eye without using all of Allison’s makeup.

Neil finished packing his bag and followed Andrew outside.  They would still have to wait on Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky because Nicky was dicking around and Kevin was talking to Wymack.  They used to linger in the lounge area until everyone was ready, but this summer Wymack had a habit of asking Neil to do minor chores while he was “lazing around” like carrying something to his office or relay this message to Abby since she won’t keep her cell on while working.  Wymack claimed it was his duty as co-captain to help out.  It was dumb stuff, but annoying enough he didn’t hang around too long after changing out.

They were struck by an odd sight once they left the stadium, though.  There was an extra car in the lot, blue.  That was all Neil really could say about cars one way or another.  Leaning against the hood were too girls.  One tall, one tall via a pair of heels but still half a head shorter than the first.  Both were talking to Isaac with an air of disinterest.

“What, not happy to see me?” Isaac asked with a strained grin.

“To be fair,” the taller girl said a bit doe eyed, “I don’t really remember you.  Never really got a chance to talk.”

“And I never really liked you to begin with,” the short redhead smiled a bit darkly.  “Now it’s been too long and I don’t really have an opinion.” 

The redhead was wearing a crop top, which was understandable considering the Southern summer heat, but it exposed scars that were eerily similar to Stiles’s.  A slice of discolored skin marked one side of her abdomen.  A series of puckered skin on the other side showed off the curve of a dog bite. Her ponytail pulled he hair back at her temples, where one side had a small bald patch where hair tried to grow over a thick scar.

Andrew leaned in and whispered in German.  “She has the same five mark behind her ear.”

Neil had missed it, staring instead at the point of what was perhaps brain surgery, but he trailed his eyes down her neck and sure enough there was a faint mark that resembled one of the few scars easily visible on Stiles. Before Neil could even begin to think what that meant, the door opened behind them and a bunch of the girls tumbled out. 

“Kira!” The tall girl yelled, waving.

Kira startled, fear and joy waring on her face.  “Malia,” she gasped.  “Lydia!”  Kira raced her way over, knuckles white on her bag’s strap.  “What are you two doing here?”

“Well we were planning this road trip to say hi to Stiles on my way to MIT, but it turns out we also get the chance to catch up with you,” the redhead, Lydia, said.  “How come you didn’t tell us you were back?”

Which, that didn’t make sense.  Back from where?  Kira had come from New York.  She was in California before that.  Coming out to South Carolina didn’t constitute as Back in any dictionary.

Kira only shook her head in response.  “I couldn’t go back there,” she said faintly.  “I’m not.  I mean, I am, but I’m…” she trailed off.  “I can’t talk about this.  Isaac?”  She looked to the curly haired friend before marching over to his sleek black car. 

Isaac hitched his thumb towards her.  “Guess it’s time to go back to the dorms.  Nice seeing you again.”

Lydia crossed her arms. 

Neil and Andrew normally got into the car and waited for their friends there, but today Andrew sat on the roof of the Maserati and pulled out a cigarette.  He wanted to “snoop” as Stiles called it.  Neil couldn’t blame him.  He was curious too.

Allison and Renee had come out with Kira but were still chatting with each other as she raced ahead.  Now, though, their attention was also on the newcomers. 

“Is that off of Bluefly?” Allison asked, pointing to Lydia’s top.  “I love that site.” 

“Good eye,” Lydia said approvingly, looking Allison over.  In the short twenty minutes it had taken them to get off the field, showered, and changed, Allison already had a full face of makeup and was dressed like she was going to a fancy cocktail party, or something.  Neil didn’t know fashion, but he knew she was always more put together than necessary.  “Are those from the Atwood summer line?” Lydia said, amazed, staring at Allison’s feet.

“Good eye,” Allison replied. 

“I’m Lydia,” she said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand, “and _you_ are my new best friend.”

“Allison.”

Lydia’s face faltered and she flinched back a little.

“What?” Allison asked.

“Nothing,” Lydia lied.  She smiled tightly.  “Just, we had a friend.”  That was the most explanation she was likely to give.  Even if she had planned on elaborating, Stiles finally emerged from the player’s entrance.

“Lydia!” he cheered.  “Light of my life!  What are you doing here?”  He smiled warmly if not awkwardly at the taller girl.  “Malia.”

She nodded.  “Stiles.”

“Surprise,” Lydia said.  “Wanted to see how you were getting on.  I needed to drive my things cross country and Malia offered to help.  She’s also driving so we don’t, you know, have any unexpected pit stops.”

“Smart plan,” Stiles said, folding Lydia into a tight hug but wincing when it pulled at his new bruise.

“What’s that?” Malia asked, zeroing in on the injured spot.  She grabbed at Stiles’s shirt and lifted it up, exposing the deep tissue bruise.  “Who did this to you?”

Stiles hurriedly yanked his shirt back down.  “Exy, Malia.  Exy did this to me.  I’m fine.”

“That’s too deep a bruise for casual sport contact,” Malia said flatly.  “Who threw the ball?”

Andrew made the mistake of snorting, a rare sign of amusement.  Which to be fair to think that anyone could simply throw a ball that hard outside of maybe baseball was ridiculous.  Malia snapped her head around and narrowed her eyes.

“Was it him?”

“Malia,” Stiles sighed long suffering.  It felt like an overused argument.

“It was him.”  She turned back to Stiles.  “Should I kill him?”

It would have sounded like a joke, like an exaggeration of what she could or would do to somebody for bruising Stiles.  If not for both Lydia and Stiles reacted.

“No, Malia,” Lydia said sternly, like a parent reprimanding her child.

“He’s not a threat,” Stiles reassured. 

Neil looked to Andrew, who wasn’t looking at Stiles and the girls, but he was clearly interested in what they were saying. 

“So?  He hurt you,” Malia said.

It was interesting to say the least that Malia just accepted that Andrew wasn’t a threat, even when she was apparently planning on killing him. 

“We’re not dating anymore, Malia.  You don’t have to protect me from everything.”

Kira, who was two cars over and only now climbing into the passenger seat jumped at that.  Neil was surprised she was paying attention.  “You guys broke up?” Kira asked, sounding lost.

Stiles shrugged uncomfortably.  “Later,” he told her before focusing his attention back on Lydia and Malia.  “If there’s room for me with all your junk, let’s go grab food, yeah?”

When Nicky stumbled out with Aaron at his heels, Allison called over from her car that he owed her money.  Stiles was officially confirmed bi and Allison and Renee were the only winners of that bet.  Dan and Nicky had thought Stiles was gay.  Matt had lost his hand when Nicky had told them all of how Stiles made out with a random guy on the dance floor. Neil was thankful Stiles hadn’t gone through with going after Nicky.  It could have made things awkward.

“You guys bet too much,” Neil told them as Kevin joined them. 

“Also, apparently Stiles’s ex-girlfriend is perfectly willing to literally kill Andrew, so if that fight ever happens we should pre-bet on the outcome,” Allison chimed in.

Neil rolled his eyes and got into Andrew’s car.  He had the worst friends.

X

Neil and Andrew looked over the campus from their spot on the roof.  Night practice with Kevin had gone well, and Neil was tired, but he couldn’t let himself sleep yet. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” Andrew observed.

“I’m always quite.”

“You’re a mouthy brat and you know it.”

Neil sighed, holding his cigarette and inhaling the comforting scent of smoke.  “They could just show off their scars, like it didn’t matter.”

Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows over his knees and bringing himself closer to Neil.  “You worry too much about what other people think.”

“Habit.”

Andrew took a long drag from his cigarette.  “It’s stupid.”

“You hide your scars,” Neil said, nodding to the black bands around Andrew’s arms.

Andrew turned his head to look at Neil.  Neil couldn’t help but feel a flood of warmth whenever he garnered Andrew’s full attention like this.   “Like I said.  Stupid.  But they’re mine and I do what I want with them.”

Neil reached over, his fingers ghosting a half inch above Andrew’s forearms.  Andrew watched, silent.

“Yes or no?” Neil asked.

“No.”

Neil withdrew his hand.  He stubbed his cigarette out and handed what was left to Andrew, who took it and stuffed it back in the box.  Neil looked out over the campus again, thinking of his own body.  How many people had laid claim to it, leaving their mark because he belonged to them.  “I wished there was a part of me no one had ever touched,” Neil admitted.

For the briefest second next to him, Andrew froze.  So quick Neil almost missed it.  Neil wondered if Andrew felt the same.  All the times he had been taken advantage of hadn’t left any scars though.  Not on the outside.  Only the ones he made himself.

“Maybe we should get tattoos,” Neil suggested.  “One that I’m awake and consenting for, this time.  Give myself new skin.  A new body no one before could say they knew.”

“We?”

Neil rested his head on his knees and stared at Andrew.  The blonde’s hair was getting long.  He’d need to trim it soon. 

“Just a suggestion.”

Andrew shook his head.  “You have the dumbest ideas.”

Neil shrugged.  He was about to suggest they get matching tattoos, something sappy to piss Andrew off, when Andrew placed a solid hand on the back of Neil’s neck and pulled him forward.  Their mouths caught each other’s in a languid kiss.  Neil smiled into it. 

They would go to bed soon, each in their own because they hadn’t gotten to the stage where Andrew could be touched in his sleep, even if they had cuddled on the rare occasion, and Neil would think about what tattoo he might get in the future.  For now, they traded slow kisses and this time when Neil asked if he could touch, hand hovering at Andrew’s calf, Andrew said yes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil!!! 
> 
> Man, I really thought I'd get to some Derek stuff in this chapter, but I guess not. Next time though! Also a bit more Lydia and Malia before they finish their road trip :D
> 
> So, I quit my job. Which, while I still have 2 weeks, just knowing that I'm leaving has left me feeling so much lighter and subsequently able to write a bit faster. haha. Anywho. Gonna do uber and postmates because many reasons. Let's just hope I can make rent doing it. 
> 
> Anywho. Quick Poll: who's interested in a sequel of sorts for Ley Lines? I've been toying with this idea for a while and I'm almost done the first chapter. Not sure if I should go ahead and post it or hold off until I finish this story? Idk. I'm writing waaay to many stories at once right now, but oooohhh welllllll.


	5. far cry from home

Lydia breathed in the campus air.  She and Malia had crashed Stiles and Isaac’s living room (that other kid didn’t matter) and were going to start the last leg of their trip after lunch.  For now, they were entertaining themselves while Stiles attended class.  He couldn’t ditch because they took extra attendance of the sport team members and anything non-excusable meant being benched for the game. 

Malia was camped outside the building Stiles was taking his Intro to Bio course, but Lydia wanted to check out the campus so she could have a mental image of where Stiles was when they talked.  She didn’t have a map, or a destination, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that her feet brought her to the closest thing to tragic death this campus had.

Lydia rounded the corner and walked straight into the cute boy with the auburn hair.  The day before, Lydia had noticed him as he came out of the exy stadium.  The scars marring his face aside, there was an aura about him that she couldn’t shake.  It wasn’t that death loomed over him, just waiting around the corner.  More that he had cheated death, somehow. 

Ever since some lunatic had drilled his way into her head, Lydia’s powers had become much more fine-tuned.  After the quick plug up to stop the onslaught of voices and memories, Lydia had to go back to Deaton and get a more permanent solution.  Her skin healed over something that wasn’t quite bone.  The voices weren’t all consuming, but she could always hear them.

When she bumped into Neil her breath caught.  In a matter of seconds she consumed the memories of all the times his body had been near death, all the moments of terror and pain.  He could have become a ghost at any moment and a haunting would have been justified.  But instead, he stood before her, a little empty in the face, a little hunched and broken. 

“Sorry about that,” Lydia said.  “You’re on the team with Stiles, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging his bag higher up his shoulder.  “Neil Josten.”

“Lydia Martin.”  Her eyes tracked the scars she could almost see underneath his clothes.  She forced herself to look him in the eye.  Her intensity probably had him spooked, if the shifty look was anything to go by.   Of course, that only drew more attention to the slashes on one cheek, and the burn marks on the other.

“Most people try to hide the fact they’re staring,” Neil snapped lowly.

Lydia smirked.  She liked this kid.  “Most people don’t know what it’s like to be stared at.”  She flipped her hair over her shoulder.  “I always prefer when people are upfront.  It makes things so much easier.”

“Is that why you show them off?” Neil asked.  He seemed surprised by himself.

Lydia was wearing a sheer top today.  It covered her midriff, but if you looked you could still see the scars.  She crossed her arms and looked him over.  “Someone tried to kill you, right?”

Neil blinked in surprise, but he didn’t respond. 

“I know they did because I did my own research into the people Stiles would be spending the majority of his time with,” Lydia continued.  “Someone tried to kill you.  Someone tortured you.  Someone almost took you apart to the point where you couldn’t be put back together.  _Almost_.  You’re a survivor.  I learned a long time ago that was something I needed to be proud of.  Because I’m still here.  And they’re not.”

Neil opened and closed his mouth a few times like a confused fish.  “What happened to you?”

Lydia smiled.  “I survived.”

She could tell Neil wanted to ask what, but that would mean it was fair to ask him the same question.  The clock tower on campus rang out, which meant Stiles’s class would be getting out.

“Do you think you can help me find this one dining hall?” Lydia asked, pulling her phone out of her pocket as if their conversation had never happened.  “I’m supposed to be meeting Stiles for lunch.

It turned out, that was where Neil had been headed anyway.

X

Malia was waiting for Stiles.  She had been having a hard time for the last two months without him.  They had broken up before that, even, but he was always still there.  Him being gone made it really sink in that she was wrong about them.  When Malia first “woke up” as she called it, Stiles was the person who taught her how to, well, be a person.  She had matured and grown up a lot, but as a coyote.  It wasn’t like she thought she was a kid or anything.  She was very much aware of her hormonal urges and they had always, _always_ been directed at Stiles. 

Even when there were cuter guys around, everything in her pulled her to him.  But with him gone, she realized that he was right.  She needed to be a person for herself, not just for him.  And it was really difficult, and she missed him, and it was difficult.  But she had learned a lot about herself when he was gone that she never would have otherwise.

Like, without Stiles to be her moral compass, she still had morals.  And, without Stiles in her senses twenty-four/seven, she _did_ feel attraction to other guys.  And now that they got to be near each other again, she learned that her fixation had actually gone away.  He still smelled of safety and home, but as comforting as Stiles was, Malia could have been smelling Lydia for all the difference it made.

It was a sobering thought to realize you weren’t in love anymore.

Malia took in a deep breath and wrinkled her nose at the stench.  That one kid who smoked and hurt Stiles was nearby.  A deep seated anger moved her.  Halfway around the building in a little nook between windows, the short blonde boy was sitting and lighting up a cigarette.  Malia towered over him when they were both standing.  Now that he was on the ground, he almost came across as helpless.

Andrew looked up at her blankly.  He blinked slowly as if totally unbothered by her presence, but Malia could smell the annoyance off him. 

“Can I help you?” Andrew asked, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke up into her face with as much precision as possible. 

Malia tried not to cringe from the smell.  “Stiles said you killed your mom.”  They had had a discussion about this Andrew kid last night before finally calling it quits for the night.  They had kicked that other asshole, Jack, into a different room so they could talk freely.  Not that much conversation happened about the supernatural, but it was nice not to have to talk around it. 

“And?” Andrew said.

“What did she do?”

He blinked again.  She could almost taste the underlying mixture of emotion, but she wasn’t that good at picking them apart.  Malia recognized anger and anxiety the best.  This wasn’t either.  He was still annoyed, but there was something more to it now.

“If you killed your mom,” she prompted again, “she must have done something to deserve it.”

“And Stiles didn’t tell you that, too?” Andrew asked in a way that suggested he was mocking her, or Stiles, or both.

Stiles _had_ told them.  Had said how the paper trail showed that Andrew and Aaron’s mother was abusive to Aaron (Andrew having only rejoined the family towards the end).  Stiles suspected that for someone who grew up bouncing around foster care and juvie snapped when faced with another abuser and that his estranged relationship with his brother had something to do with it.  That the reason he pushed back this time, and not any of the other times Andrew had been faced with abuse, was because he was protecting someone.

“It was for your brother, is what Stiles said.”

Andrew’s hand spasmed around the lit cigarette.  He burnt himself a bit, but he kept his composure other than that. 

“Why are you so interested then?” Andrew asked, looking away in feigned disinterest.

Malia crossed her arms and looked at her feet.  “I never knew anybody else who killed their mom before.”

“Else?” Andrew asked, curiosity peeked despite himself.  He was looking at her again.

Malia shrugged.  “I mean, she tried to kill me first.”  He narrowed his eyes at her.  “I don’t think I was protecting anyone, though.  I was just angry.”

“Do you normally go around confessing to everyone with a tragic backstory you meet?”

Malia shrugged again, a lot more relaxed this time.  It didn’t really matter what he thought or knew.  “I mean, a former US Marshal took the credit for bagging her, so it’s not like anyone’s going to come after me.”

With that, Malia turned and walked away.  Her attempt at connecting with someone wasn’t going very smoothly.  That was something else she learned about herself after Stiles left.  Malia had an okay time with the pack, but as much as they all helped her learn how to be a person, she still didn’t quite get it.  Back home people looked at her like she was an alien when she spoke half the time.  They always seemed to be expecting something else than who she was.

Lydia had said something about shared life experiences.  That it made it easier to get close to someone.  That was why the pack was so strong.  They went to hell and back with each other. 

The clock tower rang out just as Malia made her way to the front of the building.  She didn’t have to wait long before Stiles was bounding down the steps. 

“Where’s Lydia?” he asked, already pulling out his phone to text her. “Never mind.  We’ll meet her there.”

“Stiles?” Malia asked as they made their way through campus.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we ever would have gotten together if you hadn’t come to Eichen House?”

Stiles thought for a moment.  “I don’t know.”

Malia mulled it over, the thousand what ifs that could have happened.  She shook her head.  It didn’t matter.

“I’m glad you did.  That we did.  And, thank you.”

“For getting you out of there?” he asked, not sure what she was talking about.

Malia herself wasn’t quite sure either.  “For always being what I needed.  Even now.”

“Yeah, Malia,” Stiles said, his voice doing that sad thing he usually reserved for talking about happy memories of his mom.  “Of course.  That’s what packs for.”

And Malia couldn’t help but smile at that, because up until then, Malia wasn’t sure if Stiles still thought of himself as pack. 

X

“I like it here,” Lydia told Stiles as they claimed seats. 

“You thinking of dropping out of MIT to join me?” Stiles joked.

“I’m sure the math department here is very promising, but I think I’ll pass.”  She poked at her freshly made salad that actually looked up to her standards, surprisingly.  “I mean it Stiles.  This place.  This land.  It feels welcoming and safe and such a far cry from home.”  Lydia looked off into the distance, a bit dazed.  “I hope Beacon Hills feels like this by the time I’m ready to go back.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said a bit sadly. 

“Well I’m probably just heading back after Lydia gets settled,” Malia said before biting into her apple.  “I should probably make sure Peter’s doing okay recovering from his second coma.”

“Be careful with that,” Stiles said.  “He’s a manipulative asshole.”

“Lydia came with me the first time,” Malia said.  “He seemed terrified of her.”

“As he should be,” Lydia simpered.  “That man was the start of all the trouble any of us went through.”

Stiles couldn’t deny that.  Lydia set down her salad fork and leaned over the table to speak a bit more intimately.  “I don’t trust him. I’ll never trust him.  But whatever Valack did to him, it stripped Peter of a lot of things.  He’ll always be a manipulative asshole, it’s in his DNA, but he’s not the same man we all knew.”

Stiles frowned.  He didn’t like the sound of that.  Nothing ever good came from Peter Hale.  But Beacon Hills had been purged.  Perhaps Peter had been, too.  His stomach twisted into knots thinking about Liam and Mason and Hayden still back in town.  He thought about his father and Parrish.  They were supposed to be safe now.  It was supposed to be over.  He didn’t want to leave them alone and vulnerable.

Lost in thought, Stiles almost missed when Lydia turned around to the table behind them and snapped something in German.  Stiles looked over his shoulder and was unsurprised to see Andrew, Neil, and Nicky having lunch.  Stiles spoke Polish and Spanish and was tempted to add German to his list mostly to casually eavesdrop, but he didn’t care enough to learn a new language just to intrude into their gossip.  Lydia, of course, spoke eight languages. Possibly ten. And she loved gossip.

When she turned back to the table, Nicky was looking thoroughly chastised and Neil seemed a little uncomfortable.  Andrew was as cut off as ever, so Stiles didn’t waste his time trying to read him today.

“What was that about?” Stiles asked.

“If they’re going to talk about us, they should at least keep their voices down.”

“They were speaking German to exclude us,” Stiles pointed out.

Lydia scoffed.  “As if they’re the only people in the world to speak German.  Amateurs.”

Malia cocked her head to the side.  “But we speak about everything, fairly loudly, in English.”

Lydia smiled at her.  “They don’t know what they’re listening for.”

Soon enough, it was time to say goodbye.  Stiles was thankful that he got the chance to see them, however briefly.  Skype calls were nice, but with his schedule they were few and far between.  Now that Lydia was going to be starting school as well, who knew the next time their lives would line up.

“You know,” Lydia said after a tight hug.  They were in the parking lot and it was just the three of them.  “I saw your schedule.  If you substitute the time you used to spend running around fighting monsters with exy, you might actually become good enough for the team you’re on.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Lyds,” Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed her gently.  She was telling the truth, though.  Even with a full class load, he had so much free time.

Malia hugged him next.  While her arms were wrapped around his neck she whispered into his neck.  “Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be a part of your life, okay?”

Stiles nodded and squeezed her tightly.  “You’ll always be my friend, Malia.  We’ll always be pack.”

“Good.”  She let go and Stiles caught tears in the corner of her eyes.  This was more heartfelt than when he flew out to South Carolina.  “See you later, Stiles.”

Lydia gave him a little wave, her smile tight.  It was a difficult goodbye.  None of them knew how long it would be before they saw each other again.

X

Stiles strapped on his gloves, flexing his grip in them a few times before picking up his racket.  Jack leaned against his locker and nudged Stiles with his own racket. 

“You nervous?” Jack asked, a smarmy smile already pissing Stiles off.  “First game?  Don’t worry, we won’t need you.”

Stiles slammed his locker shut.  “Shut up, Jack.”  He headed towards the lounge area where some of the team was waiting.  There were lots of people in the stands already.  Stiles wasn’t nervous.  Mostly because Jack was right, chances were he wasn’t going to be subbed out.  Neil and Kevin were both used to playing full games, if Coach thought either of them needed a break for strategic reasons, the spot would be going to Jack.

It only hurt a little to know he was still a bench warmer. 

Kira was spinning her racket in her hands, staring at it with fierce concentration.  He sat down next to her.  “How you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m playing for Dan.  _Dan_.  I’m playing for the senior co-captain in the first half.” Kira said. 

“No pressure,” Stiles laughed.

“Also no pressure,” Isaac said, strolling into the lounge.  He clapped Stiles on the shoulder.  “Derek’s in the crowd.”

Stiles flailed to his feet.  His heart was going a mile a minute and it was obvious by Isaac's smirk this was the intended reaction.  “How long have you known he was coming?” Stiles demanded.  He tried his best to ignore the curious looks from Renee, Allison, and Matt. 

“You really think Derek wouldn’t come to my first game?”

Stiles clenched his jaw.  He didn’t know anything about Derek anymore. 

“Who’s Derek?” Sheena asked as she joined them.  “Your boyfriend?”   She clearly meant it as a jab, which was a mistake.  Andrew was right behind her and he jammed the end of his stick into her calf.  She buckled forward.

Sheena yelled out.  “Ahh!  What the fuck!” 

Stiles winced.  That was going to bruise and bruise badly.  Coach Wymack stormed in from across the hall.  “Hey!  No abusing my players, especially not as we’re about to _head out for a game_.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes.  “She’ll live.”

“Not the point, Andrew,” Wyamack said through clenched teeth. 

The rest of the team shuffled in, the band outside finishing warm ups so they could play out the team’s entrance.  Stiles was suddenly sweaty and nervous.  And angry.  Derek had never come to any of the Beacon Hill’s exy games.  Not even when his pack played.  In fact, the only time he had ever seen Derek at the stadium was when the kanima was loose and Stiles had to give up his first real chance at playing. 

It stood to reason that Derek was a more mature person.  That abandoning Beacon Hills (for good, this time) he learned how to be a supportive adult when Isaac came back to his side.  Isaac never talked about Derek.  There were a few times Stiles walked in on a phone call that ended abruptly with a perfectly reasonable excuse to study, but it didn’t matter.  Regardless whether or not Derek wanted to see Stiles, or Stiles wanted to see Derek, regardless of what steps Isaac took to avoid the subject that was never brought up, Derek was here now.

After Wymack’s speech about how this was an easy win, we were on home turf, first game, yadda yadda, they were running out onto the field. 

And above the deafening roar, above the band and cheerleaders, above the glaring harsh sight of the flood of orange, Stiles could swear he felt a pair of eyes on him.  He promised himself he wouldn’t look that way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Hi. Writing is so hard. I'm glad I decided to switch around POVs because that is the only way this story is coming out. So, I quit my day job. Did I tell you that? Idk. I have 3 days left and it's already too much. I'm doing like a master cleanse of my life I stg. I need like constant naps and validation. 
> 
> Also I didn't name this chapter because I'm brain dead and can't come up with something I like. 
> 
> Anywho, hope you're enjoying. This story is turning out to be waaaay longer than I had initially thought but I have so many IdeasTM that I can't let go. So. That.


	6. good game

Stiles stared at the field.  The game was five minutes in and Stiles already knew number 22 on the other team was going to be a problem.  Isaac had pointed him out during warm ups.  A werewolf.   Coach Wymack had waxed poetic about how easy this game was going to be, but it was the first game of the season for both teams.  They didn’t have any records of the new freshmen or how they would play. And number 22 had no problem using his werewolf strength in play, unlike Isaac or even Kira who held back.

He had already managed to score on Renee, which while not impossible is shocking when she’s this fresh.  Worse, Kira was letting him body check her.  She was too afraid of what she might do if went all out against him. 

The other team knew their strength was in their new guy.  He was faster, stronger, and had better aim than the rest of them.  Palmetto State had been considered a joke among the exy league but only due to their disorganization.  This other team really had the weakest players in Class I.  They strategized around their new prize.

“We have to take down 22,” Stiles said.  Wymack was standing right next to him.  “They’ve organized this entire game around him.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he grumbled, clearly unhappy with how the game was starting. 

Stiles reached for his second stick.  He had brought it out between warmups and the first pitch.  He could get in a lot of trouble if the league ever found out that he had weighted it.  It’s one thing to play with an official stick meant for backliners as a striker the way Neil and Kevin did.  It was another entirely to fill your official exy racket with mountain ash.  It would be harder to play with, as Stiles was unused to the weight difference, but it was the only real hope they had against someone like 22.

He stood, racket in hand, and stepped closer to the coach so the other benched players wouldn’t overhear.  Not that they were paying attention to anything other than the game.

“You need to put me in,” Stiles said.

“You?”  Wyamck looked down at him with an unimpressed look.  Stiles wasn’t as terrible as Kevin made him out to be, but he was still the weak link of the team.  “That guy’s blasting past Neil.  What do you think you can do?”

“He has the same weakness as Isaac.  We both noticed during warm ups.”

“Isaac?” Wymack still seemed unsure.  Isaac was a solid player and not even the same position as 22.    

Stiles nodded.  “Isaac can’t use that knowledge to his advantage, because he has the same problem.  But I can.”

“And what problem would that be?” Wymack asked, his eyes narrowing. 

Stiles looked away with a wry pull of his lips.  “Not really my place to expose the weakness of my teammates.” 

“I think that’s exactly your place.  How do I know you’re not shitting me just to get on the field over Jack?” 

Fair assumption.  It was pretty obvious that Stiles and Jack didn’t get along.  It was also obvious that is Wymack was going to pull one of the strikers on the field for Stiles, it would be the other freshman and not the co-captain. 

Stiles looked back over the field.  22 had just barreled past Aaron and Isaac and was about to score on Renee again.

“You recruited me because I’m a strategist,” Stiles said.  “Take me off the field at half time.  By then 22 with have a red card.”

The buzzer sounded as the ball zipped past the goal.  Wymack looked back between his losing team and Stiles.  They had caught Andrew’s attention at this point.  Stiles could feel the heat of his gaze almost as strongly as the one Derek kept sending his way even though he was here to see Isaac.

“You better not make me regret this,” Wymack muttered before calling for a time out.  The switch was called and Jack put up a big stink until Wymack threatened to bench him the entire next game. Wymack also pulled Kira.  She had been fidgety so far, and her performance against 22 was worse than in practice. 

Allison followed Stiles out onto the field to take Kira's place.  As they passed Kira, she gave him a hopeful smile.  He nodded. 

Stiles tried to ignore the deafening roar of the crowd.  He tried to forget Derek in the stands, Kevin’s aghast exclamation at hearing that Stiles was going in, forget his sweaty palms and nerves.

As he passed Neil, the co-captain gave him something approximating a proud smile.  It should have been them starting, anyway.  Wymack knew how badly Neil and Jack worked together on the field.  Maybe it was a trial against the “easy team” but it didn’t matter now.  In the spot behind him, Isaac looked down at Stile’s stick.  Stiles nodded.  Isaac grinned.

They had this.

Stiles took position across from 22.  The guy was much bigger than Stiles, but this was a exy court, not the back woods of Beacon Hills.  This guy was nothing.

He knew their plays by now.  It had only been twenty minutes, but if the other team got possession they would smack it to a backliner who would toss it to 22, who would already be a third of the way to the goal.  On the chance that the Foxes got the ball, 22 would charge and knock into them.  Stiles just hoped if Allison got it she would send it his way. 

The whistle blew.  Allison lost her footing against the mountain dealer the other team put up and in that half a second Stiles started running towards the home goal.  22 was focused on his own team.  The ball went to their dealer, to a backliner.  He was racing the same direction as Stiles, only Stiles was in front and watching him. 

The ball made his way to 22 and Stiles planted his feet checked the werewolf.  A move he would have blown off, _had_ blown off when Aaron tried it earlier.  This time, Stiles was able to turn his racket into a certifiable brick wall.  22 went stumbling back, winded and surprised.  The ball fell out of his racket and Stiles scooped it up.  He tossed it to the plexi glass.  His precision could use some work, but Neil knew where it was going to end up and met the ball.  In thirty seconds flat the ball was now a third of the way to the opposing goal. 

It wasn’t their first goal of the game, but it was a sweet victory when the buzzer sounded because of Stiles. 

“That’s not a regulation racket,” 22 snarled, smacking his shoulder against Stiles’s as he ran back towards starting position. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not regulation either,” Stiles muttered.

“That’s harder to prove.”

“Try me,” Stiles smirked.  If 22 tried to get him kicked off, all Stiles had to do was unplug the rubber end before any ref got near.  He could control the way the mountain ash fell out and dispersed.  It would give Isaac a headache, but other than that no one would notice the flecks of black scattered across the grass.

On their way back to their spots, 22’s head shot up.  He was looking towards Isaac, then snapped back to Stiles.  “You’re from Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah, why?”

22 sneered.  “Just my fucking luck.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow, but he was sure 22 couldn’t see it behind the helmet.  He wondered what 22 had heard about Beacon Hills.  Surely nothing about their rather abysmal exy team. 

When the whistle blew, the next play went similar to the first.  The other team got the ball and was preparing to toss it to 22, who was trying his best to distance himself from Stiles and his mountain ash racket. 

This time, when 22 caught the ball, Stiles checked his stick close enough to his hand, it made the werewolf stumble and let go long enough to drop the ball.  Stiles scooped it up and tossed it back to Allison. 

The other team had no idea what was going on.  His team barely knew.  Stiles was an upstart for sure, who kept getting in the way of the opponent’s star player.  After the fourth time Stiles stopped 22 in his tracks, the opponent striker snapped.  He threw his racket to the ground and tackled Stiles to the ground. 

Stiles had already tossed the ball to Neil. 

The move gave 22 the red card Stiles had promised Wymack.  It also gave Stiles a bruise the side of Texas on his torso.  Win some, lose some.  Stiles was benched for Kevin after that and Ash was allowed to take over goal for the remaining first half. 

“Looks like I didn’t sign you for no reason,” Wymack offered with a grin.  Stiles knew it was the closest thing to a _thank you_ or _good game_ he was going to get. 

Stiles was winded and about ready to faint.  Even all the suicides Dan made them do didn’t prepare him for almost a whole half.  He was not this good of a player.

When half time was called, Stiles shoved his racket in his locker along with his helmet and gloves.  He knew he wasn’t going back out there today and it was best no one else grab his racket.

“Nice trick there, Stilinski,” Isaac said, clapping Stiles on the shoulder with a grin. 

“What the hell did you even do?” Aaron asked, yanking off his helmet.  “One minute we’re getting creamed, the next you’re herding him like a shepherd.” 

Jack was fuming in the corner, but Stiles ignored it.  He could feel Andrew staring.  Neil didn’t seem to have too many questions.  He was actually smiling for once, a small smile, but still. 

Stiles shrugged.  “I’m good at finding people’s weaknesses,” is all he offered before reaching for his water bottle.  He didn’t want to talk about it.  He hadn’t expected his first time on the field to go so well, and definitely not because of werewolves.  He felt sort of ashamed for getting this kind of recognition.  He was, in all technicality, cheating bringing that racket on the field.  But he had cheated a cheater.  That couldn’t be the worst thing, right?

Stiles barely listened as Wymack detailed the game plan for the second half.  They were in a good place going in and they just had to keep their ground.  Even if they had another 22 on their bracket, with Andrew in goal, it should be fine. 

Sheena was outraged that she was the only freshmen without playtime, unless something happened to Dan.  At least Jack wasn’t complaining since he was going on with Kevin now and Neil was the sub. 

Stiles looked at them all, passive aggressively fighting.  As much as he didn’t care for Andrew and his crew, they had a point.  This team was a mess.  Stiles sighed.  He wanted to do well.  Or, he wanted to not be the reason people were disappointed and failing.  He just didn’t have the energy to try and fix this team. 

He barely had the energy to put himself back together.

Now that he was winding down from the thrill of the game, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking about all the shit he just pulled in front of Derek Hale.

When they ran back out to the field, Stiles had a much harder time focusing on the game.  During one of the time outs there was a knock on the plexiglass that separated the players box from the stadium seating.  Stiles looked over and nearly had a heart attack. 

Next to him, Isaac jumped to his feet with a smile.  “Cora!”

“Didn’t realize she was back in the States, either,” Stiles muttered. 

“Never asked,” Isaac said with a shit eating grin. 

Cora gave Stiles a toothy grin that looked a more than a little menacing.  It was hard to hear her through the plexiglass, but he was sure Isaac didn’t have a problem. 

“Derek wants to go out for dinner after this.  Stiles and the one I don’t know are also invited.”

Kira looked like a deer in headlights.  She didn’t want to see Derek as much as Stiles.  Stiles couldn’t help his eyes roaming past Cora to find Derek in the stands.  He was finally too weak, too distracted to resist.  Derek looked good, unsurprisingly.  He was sporting a nicely trimmed beard and a too tight white shirt.  It pissed Stiles off.  Who did he think he was, Steve Rogers?  Stiles wondered why he hadn’t come over himself instead of sending Cora, but tore his gaze away before he could get too caught up.

“Going real well, I see,” Cora told Isaac before turning around.  She said something else to him as she headed back through the stands, but it was beyond his hearing. 

“Who was that?” Kira asked, leaning in to be as quiet as possible.

“Derek’s sister,” Stiles said.  “She was in some unknown South American location when you were around.”

“And who’s Derek, again?” Allison grinned leaning over her stick. 

“My foster brother,” Isaac said with a feral grin, plopping down next to Kira. 

“Yeah?” Sheena snorted.  “Does he like to give you special nighttime fun like Andrew’s –”

Aaron was on his feet, racket pressed into her throat. 

“Hey!” Wymack called over. 

“I am not the violent twin,” Aaron said darkly.  “But I’m the one who was arrested for murder.  Remember that.”

Aaron let Wymack pull him away from Sheena.  The freshman dealer skittered back into Ash, who comforted Sheena awkwardly.  Wymack ordered Aaron to sit.  He did with steely eyes.  Renee offered him a quiet touch of support which Aaron shrugged off.  She smiled in understanding. 

“And Sheena,” Wymack said.  “Don’t be an idiot.  But more importantly, don’t mock someone for their history.  You’ve got yours, too.”

Sheena clamped up. And turned her head away.  Stiles saw tears at the corner of her eyes. 

The rest of the game went by with little talking on the bench.

X

Stiles hung back in the locker room after Wymack gave them a talk.  They had won.  They had issues, sure, but it wasn’t a terrible game when it came down to it. 

Stiles was stalling.

He didn’t want to see Derek.  It was a home game.  He could hang back until Isaac left and then walk back to the dorms.  Or maybe the upperclassmen will invite him out.  Give him a good excuse.  But he knew he couldn’t leave first like usual.  It would only mean running into Derek.  Because if Stiles knew anything, it was that he was already waiting by the player’s entrance.

“Nope,” Isaac said, shoving Stiles’s things into his locker and slamming it closed.  “You’re not getting out of this.  Even Kira’s coming.”

Stiles looked over to Kira, who seemed shell shocked and betrayed. 

“Get out of what?” Nicky asked, again poking his head in where it didn’t belong.  Stiles half wondered if he had been given that very task by the otherwise nonverbal Neil and Andrew.   

Stiles ran a hand over his face.  He was tired and sore and he didn’t want to do this.  Isaac grabbed his bag and herded Stiles to the door.  Sure enough, Derek and Cora were waiting by the Camaro.  Stiles could feel his throat tighten.  He swallowed, mouth running dry.  He was sure his anxiety was spicing up the air and he hated that about himself.

He hadn’t talked to Derek in almost two years since he left Beacon Hills with a half-hearted promise of coming back one day and no way to contact him. 

Stiles looked around.  “What? No car.  Did you two run here?”

“Maybe we did, Stilinski,” Cora grinned meanly. 

“Don’t,” Derek chided.  He turned his stupid pale eyes onto Stiles and smiled so softly it could give someone a heart attack.  “Stiles.”

“Well shit,” Allison said from the doorway behind them.  “Tension’s so palpable over there I don’t know which one to bet on.”

“Maybe Stiles fucked them both,” Dan laughed. 

Stiles turned to them, wide eyed.  Even without werewolf hearing they weren’t exactly being quiet.  “What the fuck, guys.”

Dan shrugged.  “What, you’re our most profitable betting pool.  So many questions.”

“I hate you all,” Stiles snapped.

“Stiles gave me CPR once,” Cora offered.  “That’s almost like a kiss.”  She turned a shit eating grin on Derek.  “You?”

Derek looked like he was going purple.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  Of course, their first meeting in over a year, and Stiles was already the butt of the joke and Derek was disgusted. 

“Oh fuck, he’s hot,” Nicky’s voice rang out over Allison and Dan’s snickering.  Stiles slapped his face, closing his eyes to the world. 

“Twenty bucks on whether or not Stiles tapped that,” Allison grinned. 

“More like betting pool on _when_ Stiles is going to tap that.  Look at them!”

“Oh, can I get on that bet!” Cora called.

“I’m going,” Stiles said, marching past the cars, fully aware he wasn’t going to get very far.  He had barely gotten to the next line of cars when a warm hand rested on his shoulder and turned him around.

Derek was even more striking up close.  “Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?  They’re my friends.”

Derek’s mouth quirked and he looked away.  “I didn’t mean to force this, out in the open.  I just hoped we could catch up.” 

Stiles shrugged awkwardly, his throat feeling tight again.  “Whatever.”

“I heard about Beacon Hills.  About what you all did,” Derek offered.

Stiles let out a harsh laugh, a little breathy, a little wet.  “So, what?  You were keeping tabs on us the whole time you cut contact?”

Something complicated happened to Derek’s face, like a system crash.  “I just.  Word gets around.  I don’t know what really happened.  Just that you guys went through some crazy stuff.”

“Crazy stuff.”  Stiles smiled tightly.  He felt like he was going to be sick.  “Right.” 

“Stiles,” Derek cajoled, like this could all be smoothed over with a few words. 

“No.  You left, Derek.  You decided it was better to be a person on the outside who just gets to hear stories.  And I don’t blame you.”  Stiles rubbed at his eyes as if the images from his senior year would just go away already.  “My last year has been a shit show.  And you deserved to go and make happy.  You did.  But you still left.  And I.  I don’t know.”

Stiles held his hands up and backed away.  “I just don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned back around. 

“Stiles!” Derek called out.  Stiles didn’t have the strength in him to not look over his shoulder.  “Good game.”

Stiles clenched his jaw tight and kept walking. 

He made it all the way to the end of the parking lot when a car pulled up next to him.  Stiles was surprised to see the Maserati instead of the Camaro. 

The back window rolled down and Nicky poked his head out.  “Hey!  So, we don’t _exactly_ have enough seats for another passenger, but if you don’t mind sitting on my lap,” Nicky said with a wink and a sleazy grin, “you can join us for a night at Eden’s.”

Stiles looked back over to where Derek and the others were. 

“We won’t mention the beefcake all night.  Plus, free drinks.”

Derek looked his way.  Even from this far, the eye contact was too much. 

“Fuck it,” Stiles said.  “I need to be drunk.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... not where this chapter was supposed to go. Oops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Oh! And for reference:
> 
> Strikers: Stiles, Jack, Neil, Kevin (2 on field at a time)  
> Dealers: Kira, Sheena, Dan, Allison (1 on field at a time)  
> Backliners: Isaac, Nicky, Aaron, Matt(2 on field at a time)  
> Goalies: Ash, Renee, Andrew (1 on field at a time)
> 
>  
> 
> Starting:  
> Jack, Neil, Kira, Isaac, Aaron, Renee
> 
> Switch 1:  
> Stiles, Neil, Allison, Isaac, Aaron, Renee
> 
> Switch 2:  
> Kevin, Neil, Allison, Isaac, Aaron, Ash
> 
> Second Half:  
> Jack, Kevin, Dan, Matt, Nicky, Andrew
> 
> I moved names around a lot in this chapter, so if you find a mess up let me know.


	7. stories

“Why do you have to poke fun at everything?” Derek snapped at his sister as they climbed into the Camaro. 

“I don’t know, _Der_ , isn’t that what sisters do?” Cora challenged.

Kira felt out of sorts watching them squabble.  Derek had always been there for her and Scott her junior year.  She had really looked up to him.  It had been a year, and she had gone through too much, Kira understood why Stiles didn’t want to see him.  Stiles was closest to Derek out of any of them, and he just left.  And they all changed.  She felt like she had become something jagged while Derek had been smoothed by the tide.  They didn’t fit together anymore.

“There’s a place on Vineyard Grove that smells like I would murder my first born to eat there, so I figured we could use your credit card instead,” Isaac said, cutting over the continued bickering of the Hale siblings. 

Kira perked up.  “The Brazilian Steakhouse?”

She caught Isaac’s smirk through the review mirror.  “You know it.”

It was twenty minutes later they were sitting around a table being served a buffet of gourmet meats.  Kira had a suspicion the owners would be regretting serving three werewolves despite the steep prices per head.   

“So, Kira,” Cora said, gleefully stabbing at her stake.  “You’re quiet.”

Kira gave a strained smile.  “I’ve been working on not blabbing when I’m nervous.”

“So you’re nervous right now?” Cora asked, faux innocently.

“Cora,” Derek said, a tired warning.

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the new kid?”

“It’s not like I know anything about you either,” Kira retorted.

Cora rolled her eyes.  “What do you wanna know?”

Kira blinked, thinking.  She turned to Isaac, but he was no help, eating his latest cut of meat with gusto.  “Well, Stiles said you were there before I moved to town, but then you weren’t?  Never really mentioned really.”

“Course not,” Cora huffed.  “I had come to Beacon Hills to find what was left of my family.  After the alpha pack fiasco, I wanted to leave again.  That town holds nothing but bad memories.  So Derek and I left.”

“But Derek came back,” Kira said, confused.

Cora nodded.  “We were going to do the whole family fun road trip thing.  Maybe hit up Disney.  Something to get our minds off stuff while getting to know each other again.  That’s when Peter caught up to us, warning us about the hunters after me.”

“After Kate,” Derek butted it.  “Peter’s intel was wrong.”

“At the time he thought he was telling the truth.  That should count for something,” Cora said around a hunk of steak.  “Anyway.  Derek brings me back to my pack in Brazil.  He hangs around for a few days, gets to meet everyone, then is off to help Peter who’s been providing a distraction for the hunters.”

“Which is when the two of us got caught and learned they weren’t even after you.”

“Which is when I moved to Beacon Hills,” Kira surmised. 

Isaac nodded.  “Think so, yeah.”

“Then,” Cora continues, “about a year later?  Derek shows up at my front door with this one tottering behind him, saying he’s left Beacon Hills behind for good and wants to try getting to know each other again.”

Kira looked to Isaac.  He sighed.  “After Allison, I left with Chris for France.”

“I remember.”

“Well, when news of Kate’s reappearance surfaced, he went to hunt her down.  I only spent a couple of months in France at that point, and by the end of the school year, Chris was telling me he wasn’t going to be able to come back.  I was staying with some local pack at the time, but without Chris I didn’t see the reason to stay.”

“Chris asked me to take Isaac in,” Derek offered.  “So I did.  We talked a lot about what we both wanted before he came back to the States and then down to Brazil.”

“And then when I agreed to join them, back up to fucking Nebraska,” Cora said, clearly not happy with that development.

Derek shrugged.  “Our family had property up there, so it was easy to relocate and not cause a fuss as an unestablished pack.”

Kira nodded, getting that.

“What about you?” Cora asked.  “What’s your story?”

“Chris already told us about the mess with the Dread Doctors,” Derek said, sounding upset.  “Not until after it was resolved, of course.  He didn’t want us getting involved.  But I hadn’t heard about what happened to any of you after that.”

Kira put her fork and knife down across her plate.  She had lost her appetite.  “I was in the desert,” she said softly.  “With the Skin Walkers.”

There was a clatter of silverware.  She hadn’t talked about the Sisters out loud since the first time she left them.  Clearly Derek knew who they were.

“Why?” he asked.

“Foxes aren’t like wolves,” Kira said.  “Everything is you.  For me, it’s like, yes this is who I am, but there’s also something ancient, something passed down that gives me my tails and helps me learn swordplay like the training program in The Matrix.”  She sighed.  “I was losing control of myself.  My mother brought me to them.”

“I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered.

“Who the fuck are the Skin Walkers?” Cora asked. 

Derek looked around the busy restaurant.  “Later,” he told her.  He returned his attention to Kira.  “And you’re back now?”

“Trial period.  To see if what they taught me will stick.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Kira didn’t want to think about it.  This was her last chance.  If she messed up, she would never get to come back. 

It was why she hadn’t wanted to tell Scott she was back.  She didn’t want to bring his hopes up. 

It was why she distanced herself from her mother.  She was angry that her mother hadn’t prepared her for what she was.  If she had been taught properly rather than in the heat of danger, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so afraid of herself, vulnerable enough to let the fox take over. 

It was the reason she froze on the field.  She knew exy could be a trigger.  She feared nothing except the day she lost control in the heat of a game and started spouting Japanese and swinging her racket like a katana.  She still played because it was the best way to prove herself. 

“I was with them for almost three months before they gave me a year to myself.  My family had moved back to New York.  Finished up high school there.  Came here.  I’ll find out where I’ll be come January, I guess.”

The table grew quiet.  Isaac bumped shoulders with her.  “I’ve got your back.”

Kira tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Thanks.”

As they were winding down, even the werewolves stuffed and ready to head out, it was clear that Derek was getting more and more nervous.  Finally, Cora just slapped his arm and snapped at him to spit it out.

Derek sighed and looked at Kira.  “If you weren’t there for it, did you hear the rumors about what happened in Beacon Hills this Spring?”

Kira frowned and shook her head.  She had spent her final semester of school focused on herself.  She couldn’t let herself slip.  “Why?  What happened?”

Derek, Cora, and Isaac all looked at each other, uncomfortable.  Surely nothing could be as crazy as the things they had already gone through.

“We’re not sure,” Derek said carefully. 

“Stiles told me that they defeated it,” Isaac said softly.  “When I asked him what, he told me they defeated Beacon Hills.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kira asked, remembering all the dark things the nemeton lured its way.  She took in their faces.  “What are the rumors,” she asked, worried now.  Scott hadn’t said anything, not that he really had the chance to.  Neither did Malia or Lydia.  And definitely not Stiles.  But now that she thought about it, it was strange that they had all left.  Even Scott, who was still in California, was practically a day’s drive away from his own territory. 

Malia had said she was going back.  There was still pack in Beacon Hills.  But they were without their alpha. 

She could hardly believe she hadn’t thought about this until now.

Derek squeezed the bridge of his nose, remaining silent as the waiter came back with his check receipt.  “We should talk about this somewhere else.”

X

Andrew took a sip of his whiskey sour, Neil’s grounding presence next to him the only thing keeping him from losing it.  Stiles hadn’t had to sit in Nicky’s lap the whole ride because they took a quick trip to the dorms to get him some club clothes and Aaron decided to ditch them for Katlyn.  Worse, Aaron has since shown up to Eden’s Twilight _with_ Katlyn.  Andrew wanted to smash his glass into the ground.  Andrew’s only vindication was that Roland charged Aaron for his and Katlyn’s drinks. 

His other distraction came in the form of Stiles.  He’d presented himself with two new mysteries today.  The first being what happened on the field.  Andrew hadn’t been playing the first half.  He had nothing to do _but_ watch.  Stiles hadn’t been playing any better than usual.  Any better than Jack, even.  And yet.  And yet, Stiles had managed to knock the other team’s beast of a freshman striker down without much effort. 

The second mystery came from the two people who had left with Isaac and Kira.  Apparently the guy was Isaac’s foster brother, but it was Stiles who had freaked out seeing him.  Andrew couldn’t know what kind of relationship that group had with each other.  He couldn’t guess at anything.  Stiles didn’t read like a victim confronting an abuser, nor a lover confronting an ex.  But he had seemed angry, betrayed, and by the way Stiles was drinking himself into liver failure, probably in love.

Stiles was just full of surprises.

When Neil excused himself to hit the bathroom, Andrew took it as his chance.  Nicky had promised they wouldn’t mention tall, dark, and handsome, and Neil agreed.  Andrew made no such promise.

“I didn’t know Isaac had a foster brother,” he said, setting his class down with a satisfying _thunk_.

Stiles’s lips ticked up in a sarcastic smirk.  “I find it hard to believe I’m the only freshmen you did research on.”

“Records showed he was emancipated at sixteen.”

Stiles tossed back the last swallow of his drink.  “Not my story to tell,” he bit out, a slight slur to his words. 

“Then how about you tell me what went down on the field today?  You don’t just become a prodigy overnight.”

Stiles shook his head.  “Only would work against him.”  He laughed something hateful, eyes glazed and thoughts turned inwards.  “I cheated a cheater, Andrew.  I can’t actually play worth a shit.”

“I want to know something,” Andrew told him.  “I take you out, you can pay me with a real answer.”

“Andrew!” Stiles brought a hand to his chest in mock offense.  “Buying a lady a drink doesn’t mean she _owes_ you anything.  And drunk doesn’t equal consent.” 

“You’re a lady now?”

Stiles laughed.  “I have some drag queen friends back home that have been trying to turn me into one for years.  But no.” 

Andrew could see through the tactic Stiles was using.  It was the same one he always used.  He talked around a subject, dropping tidbits of information to make the conversation feel natural.  He talked, and it would feel like you were getting to know him, but you never learned anything more than he wanted you to.  Andrew had to admit it was a smart play.  With people like him or Neil, it was always easy to tell that they were hiding something.  They would get quiet or get angry and storm off when things hit too close to home.  Stiles just laughed and dove right in, deflecting questions he didn’t want to answer.

Andrew wondered what Betsy thought of him. 

“Tell me something real about today or I’ll go find it myself,” Andrew warned. 

Stiles gave him a dull look before leaning across the table.  “What do you really want to know, Andrew.  Who Derek is?  Or what I did on the field?  What’s the bigger mystery for you?”

Andrew thought.  He knew what answer he would get for both.  Stiles would piecemeal the truth.  Not lie, but there would be too many holes.  Derek is Isaac’s foster brother.  He’s someone both Stiles and Kira know, so he’s from Beacon Hills.  Isaac left Beacon Hills, so it’s safe to assume so did Derek.  Whatever their relationship, this hurt Stiles.  He wouldn’t get a full story.

As for the game tonight.  Andrew watched it.  Stiles headed for where that player _would_ be and checked him the second he had the ball.  It would hold up as an answer other than the fact Aaron couldn’t check and stop the striker.  It didn’t compute that skinny, barely functional Stiles was able to do it so flawlessly. 

But if Andrew picked either question to be answered, those would be the answers he had to live with.  Lucky him, Andrew knew how to play Stiles’s game.

X

“That can’t possibly be true,” Kira said, hands itching for her sword belt she had locked away in a box with her passport under her bed. 

“We don’t think it is,” Cora said, bored by this conversation.  They were walking around the mostly empty campus.  Students dressed for parties were stumbling around, but no one was paying attention or even close enough to hear them.

“Having lived through the better part of the last few years there,” Derek said, “it was easy to spot when stories got mixed up with each other or exaggerated way beyond truth.  The problem is there’s no clear one story about what happened in the Spring.”

“Was it _Dawn of the Dead_ meets _Tuck Everlasting_?” Cora asked, rolling her eyes.  “Or maybe more season six of _Buffy_ with a dash of _The Giver_.”

“We got it, Cora,” Derek huffed.  “Thanks.”

Isaac scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk.  “I remember when we found out Stiles and I were going to be on the same team.  I had to convince Derek not to just show up with me on the first day to make sure Stiles was okay.”

“People really think Stiles is really some all-powerful warlock?” Kira asked.  “He’s seems nor-.”  She cut herself off.  Normal was relative for all of them.  Stiles seemed upset, closed off, bitter.  But so was she.  Maybe he could pass as normal to someone who hadn’t known him as well, but he wasn’t quite the same as before.  “He seems fine,” she amended.  “He couldn’t have…” she trailed off, thinking of the contradicting rumors the three of them had passed along.

He couldn’t have what?  They didn’t even know what had happened.  Was Stiles the latest serial killer of Beacon Hills?  Did Stiles bewitch the entire town?  Did he steal the power of a True Alpha?  Or did he steal the power of a banshee?  None of it made sense.  None of it seemed real.

But Kira thought about her months with the Skin Walkers. 

Anything could be real.

X

Stiles glared.  Andrew knew he had won this round. 

“If you ever utter that, to me or to anyone else, I will find a way to break all your teeth,” Stiles promised.

“That’s a bit extreme for being called by your first name.  Reason you’re hiding it?  Last person who had a hidden identity was running away from his mob boss father.”

“It’s not a secret.  It’s on all my official forms,” Stiles told him. 

Andrew stared him out.  Stiles would crack on this.  He had no reason to be so offensive, no matter how big a monstrosity his name was to pronounce. 

Stiles got really quiet.  His slightly glazed eyes no longer looked like that of a drunk college kid, but someone wise beyond their years.  “My mother named me,” he said.  “After her father.  I never met him and she died when I was nine.”

Andrew remained silent.  More was coming, he was sure of it.

“I’m the last of that bloodline,” Stiles said.  “My first name passed down fifteen generations.  But I learned a lot about them recently.  It’s time for my name to die out.  I’m glad I go by Stiles.”

“Why don’t you just change it legally then?” Andrew asked, genuinely interested.

Stiles shrugged, a twisted smile on his face.  “It’s still the only thing left my mother gave me.”  He took a deep breath.  “And suddenly I’m really sober.  I’m going to the bar.”

Andrew didn’t stop him. He had won that round, but he wasn’t sure if it felt like a victory. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of talking!
> 
> okay, so the TW canon timeline is a bit of a shit show. This is my reference for where they are at school per season:
> 
> Teen Wolf Timeline:  
> SSN1: Beginning of Spring Semester, Sophomore Year (Marked by Lacrosse Tryouts)  
> SSN2: End of Spring Semester, Sophomore Year  
> Summer, Allison in France, Jackson moved to London  
> SSN3a: Beginning of Fall Semester, Junior Year  
> Derek disappeared briefly with Cora, returned with Peter  
> SSN3b: End of Fall Semester, Junior Year  
> Winter Break. Isaac left for France. Totally forced and arbitrary healing over Allison’s death. Derek’s been missing for how long?  
> SSN4: Spring Semester, Junior Year (Marked by Lacrosse Tryouts)  
> Summer, Derek's left for good.  
> SSN5: Fall Semester, Senior Year  
> [hasn't happened yet SSN6: Spring Semester, Senior Year]
> 
> so for those of you following along, the BIG MYSTERY™ happened during Stiles's Spring Semester Senior Year. I am in NO WAY pulling from what clues we've seen so far in the SSN6 trailer because fuck that. Instead, that's going to be all original story line for me. But clearly, a lot happened before Stiles joined the Foxes. all will be revealed... eventually.


	8. again

Stiles shoved his papers into his backpack, not really caring they were an unorganized mess.  He rushed out of the library.  He had twenty minutes to grab a prepackaged lunch from the student union and book it to his bio class.  Stiles is two steps out the door when another kid grabs onto his shoulder.

“Whoa, hey!” Stiles said, giving the kid a look. 

“Sorry!” he said, raising his hands.  The kid was wide eyed and jittery, some sort of a stereotypical first-day-of-school loser.  “I just.  You’re Stiles Stilinski, right?”

Stiles frowned.  “Uh, yeah.”  He looked around.  It wasn’t a game day so he wasn’t wearing the dumb orange track jacket with his name on it.  “Why?”

The kid’s eyes flashed golden.  Stiles nearly had a heart attack.  “Jesus!” he whispered harshly, dragging the kid away from any potential crowd of students.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I need help,” the kid said. 

“First off,” Stiles bit out, “who the fuck are you.  Second, why the hell do you know me or want my help.  Third, I need food and you’re cutting into my very short lunch break so make it quick.”

“I, uh,” the kid stammered.  “Cody Bayer.  Of the McAlister pack in San Antonio.  My alpha said if I got into trouble to find you.  You, you’re the emissary of Beacon Hills,” he said with wonder.  “You’re like a legend man.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles hissed.  “Keep your fucking voice down.  What do you _neeeeed_.”

Cody ruffled his hair and looked away ashamed.  “I’m, er, having trouble with control.”

“Shouldn’t you be potty trained by now?” Stiles asked, incredulously.  Cody could be a fresh bite, he supposed, but he had a pack that should have made sure he was safe to leave.

“It’s my first full moon away from pack.  Never gone through it alone before.” 

Stiles wanted to roll his eyes.  To tell the kid off because he now had ten minutes to get to class and had to skip lunch if he wanted to be on time.  He wanted to yell at him.  But they were in public and Cody was clearly freaked out.

“Do you want me to get my friend Isaac.  He has the same furry problem.”

Cody shook his head.  “No!  No, being around someone out of pack could set me off.  I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Stiles sighed and rubbed at his temples.  “Okay.  Okay, give me your phone number.”  He pulled out his cell and handed it over.  “We’ll meet up before sun down.  I’ll,” he waved his hand in front of his face, “figure something out.”

“Right, thank you.” Cody said, handing back the phone.

“You owe me lunch for this,” Stiles said over his shoulder as he raced off. 

Figures, Stiles thought.  Only two weeks after Derek and Cora’s visit and Stiles runs into more werewolves.  He briefly wondered how many more were on campus, then reminded himself that he didn’t want to know. 

X

Stiles was, understandably, distracted during practice.  It didn’t help that he was starving.  Allison hit him twice for it and Kevin wasn’t quiet about how many times Stiles missed a pass. 

“What’s your problem?” Isaac asked. 

Stiles yanked his helmet off and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.  “How many members of the Remus Lupin fan club are there on campus?”

Isaac shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Out of the entire student body and staff, probably twenty.  I know I’ve sniffed out half that.  Why?”

Stiles shoved his helmet back on.  He had a lot of thinking to do.  If one of those maybe twenty wolves on campus, if only one of them had control issues that would be a blessing.    Would more be coming to him?  Or did the rest already have support systems or enough control.  Isaac was fine, but he didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing, even for a werewolf. 

“I’m not the Beacon Hills emissary,” Stiles admitted.  “No matter what people may hear.”

Before Isaac could ask what he meant, Wymack yelled at them to get back into formation.  When practice was called to an end, Stiles sped through changing even faster than usual.  He had to meet up with a classmate to work on a stupid group project in his abnormal psychology class. 

“Whoa, Stilinski,” Dan said as he stepped out of the locker room.  She was still in her gear.  “Where’s the fire?”

Stiles shrugged.  “Busy schedule.”

She frowned.  “Don’t wear yourself out.”

Stiles snorted.  “Please.  This is nothing.”  And then he was dashing out the door.  Stiles was thinking about getting a bike just to get to and from the stadium.  But while Stiles saved time by not needing a job thanks to the amazing scholarship he had, he also didn’t have spare cash.  Maybe he should charge when wayward werewolves needed his expertise. 

It was almost seven by the time Stiles made it to the dorms after his last two classes of the day.  Luckily his communication’s credit was a boring and crazy easy lecture hall, so he spent that hour and a half banging out his poli-sci homework.  Really, he had this college thing down. 

He just needed to grab his lock box of supernatural shit and then stock up with food from the Fox Tower dining hall.  His stomach was a black hole from missing lunch and it was going to be a long night.  Halfway down the hall and Dan darted out of her room like a fucking ferret and blocked his path. 

“We need to talk,” she said, crossing her arms.  

“What?  Why?” Stiles asked, almost tripping over himself to make sure he didn’t crash into his senior captain.

“Excuse you,” Dan scoffed.  “Slow down for two seconds, will you?”

“Fine,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. 

“Matt didn’t see you at the dining hall at lunch today,” Dan said, pursing her lips.  “Then you’re distracted and zipping out of practice in two seconds.”

“Point?”

Dan sighed.  “Stiles, how many classes are you taking?”

“Six, plus a lab.” 

Dan threw her hands up.  “You’re just like him, I swear to god.”  She refocused her attention on Stiles and jabbed him in the chest.  “You have a five year contract.  You only need to take the minimum required classes a semester to graduate on time, which you should with exy taking up so much of your time.”

Stiles scrunched his brow and frowned.  “Well, yeah, but I want to suck as much as I can out of this situation.  A five year schedule gives me plenty of time to double major with a minor, plus take the fun classes I want.”

Dan’s eyes bugged out.  “You’re literally crazy.  When do you sleep?”

“He doesn’t,” Jack said, slipping out of their dorm room with a couple of books.  “I get up to pee in the middle of the night and he’s in a spiral of research notes.”  He walked past them and knocked on the freshmen girl’s room.   “Sheena!  Are you ready?”

Dan ignored him, keeping focus on Stiles.  “Look, if you want to be crazy and take too many classes, that’s fine.  _Unless_ it affects you on the field.  And remember that I’m the good cop.”

“I actually have lots of free time compared to my life before,” Stiles told her.  “Today was an anomaly.  A little bit of my old life creeping back in.  Speaking of which, I gotta go deal with something before it _does_ take up my free time.”

He saluted Dan and darted for his room.  “Hey, wait,” Dan said.

“What?”

She looked him over.  “What are you majoring in that’s so important?”

Stiles shrugged.  “Psychology and criminal sciences.  Minor in biology.  I want to help people.  Maybe be a cop, like my dad.  Maybe the FBI.  Haven’t decided yet.”

She looked him over again before nodding.  “Okay, Stilinski.”  Then she let him be.

X

Andrew was on his way to pick up Neil and Kevin for their night practice when he spotted it.  Stilinski.  Stiles was always running off to the library.  Neil and Aaron spotted him there all the time.  He had a packed schedule every day.  Andrew knew this because he saw it once.  His week had been planned out and on the mini bulletin board above his desk.  This was out of the norm.  Sure, it could be expected of college freshmen to make friends, hang out with people outside of the foxes, go to a party.  Whatever.  But Stiles was heading towards the construction site.

And Andrew knew the only reason to go there was for something shady.  Especially for people like them.

Without much thought, Andrew turned his car around and caught up with the gangly mess.  Stiles looked like he just sported a migraine when he noticed the Maserati. 

“What do you want, Minyard,” Stiles asked when Andrew rolled the window down. 

“What are you doing at the construction site?”  The place was a lot further along than this time last year, but the expansion was big and was on schedule to be finished before winter hit too hard. 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “On my way to hide a body.”

“There are good spots for it there,” Andrew conceded.  He had thought about burying Neil there once.  And Jack, recently, but Neil said he’d deal with Jack himself.    

Stiles stopped walking and looked at Andrew.  “The fact that you sound serious does concern me a bit.”

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do so, but Andrew decided to smile at Stiles, the smile he used to give when his anti-psychotics made him, well, psychotic.  That was the side effect of being put on a medicine you didn’t actually need.  The effect on Stiles was enough to stir a sense of humor in Andrew. 

“That’s disturbing.  Put that away.” Stiles demanded, despite Andrew having already dropped the smile.  “Look,” Stiles sighed.  “I know we’re never going to be friends.  Too many things I’m unwilling to share and you’re not someone who can let people in unless you know everything.  It’s your way of protecting yourself.  I get that.  And the others are a lot easier to read than me.  I get it.  But nothing I’m doing or not doing has any effect on you or Neil or the team.  Okay?”

Stiles was right, in a way.  Andrew didn’t feel comfortable being in the dark about things.  And Stiles was an enigma.  He carried signs of abuse without evidence of an abuser. 

From everything that had passed recently, even Stiles’s secrets had a pattern to them.  Andrew wasn’t sure if he should wait for more clues to show up or do more digging into his background.  He’d looked up Stiles, but not Beacon Hills, which seemed to be the epicenter of everything.  The town itself, not the people from there. 

“We’ll see, Stilinski,” Andrew said.  It would be too much wasted effort to try and learn anything from Stiles with this conversation.  But a plan was forming in his head.  Stilinski wasn't the the only one who could think through a strategy. 

X

Stiles debated whether it was actually worth going to sleep for the next two and a half hours before he had to rush to his eight AM or if he should just down three Red Bulls and see if he starts to hallucinate or not.  He had made a ring of mountain ash for Cody to hole up in for the night.  Cody had made sure Stiles was awake the entire time. 

Cody couldn’t shut the fuck up.  He couldn’t fall asleep because of the moon.  And he couldn’t be left alone in case anyone came by.  Which, no one did, by the way.  Stiles could have slept. 

Okay, sure, he did wolf out a little bit, but tossing him the “sacred Hale family crest” that Derek and Stiles had given Liam to help control himself after first being turned, he had calmed the fuck down and didn’t have a single mishap the rest of the night. 

Cody asked if he could hold onto the sacred object.  Stiles wondered how long it would take the werewolf to notice the _made in China_ stamp on the back. 

“You can get by on your own next time,” Stiles had told him.  “Only come find me if there’s a real emergency.  Like a serial killer.  Unless there are bodies, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Hopefully, he would never be seeing Cody again except for the occasional passing.  If Stiles were lucky, Cody would be the only new werewolf Stiles would ever meet ever.  Or at least during his time here at Palmetto State.  Stiles had an inkling feeling that he wasn’t very lucky, no matter how safe this area felt to Lydia. 

It’s the way things went, wasn’t it?  One small problem.  Then two.  Then the small problem is actually a big problem.  Then all of a sudden you’re running for your life.  Again.

He blinked back spots from an all nighter.  At least he got all his homework done.  It would free him up for a nap later.  Stiles sighed.  If he fell asleep now he would miss class.  A shower, change of clothes, and mad dash to the breakfast place on the far corner of campus it was.

X

Andrew was up on the roof around 5 in the morning.  He had woken from a nightmare and desperately needed a cigarette in peace.  Neil would wake up for his morning run soon and come find him.  Then he spotted someone from his vantage point heading towards the dorm.  Stilinski.  In the same clothes as last night, eyes bloodshot and bruised from lack of sleep. 

That cemented it.  It was time to do some more digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took so long. I haven't had the mental energy to write in a while. I wish this chapter had more in it, too. Like I keep saying, I have so many thoughts, they just keep taking forever to reach. 
> 
> Anywho. For those of you interested in my actual life, I'm in pre production for a professional webseries. If you've been following me a long time, you might remember when I posted about a webseries involving a high school aged werewolf "coming out" as it were, after everything had been made public. Well, I scraped that project, rewrote it, and am making it a real thing rather than something shot on my iphone. :P
> 
> If you'd like to learn more about it, check out [The Werewolf Diaries official tumblr page ](http://werewolfdiaries.tumblr.com/) or my so called production company's Instagram @delayedreactions 
> 
> Thanks for all your support and interest in my fics. Like, honestly, it has driven me so much as a person and having people rely on me for something as inane as a chapter update helps motivate me to get out of be some days. I find it a lot harder to work on my professional stories because there's no one giving me feedback at every turn like I get here. I just have to write and write and write and see what one day may happen with it. It's difficult, even more so when I can't just publish an e-book of all my hard work since I'm getting into script writing. There's like, money and other people involved in making film and TV. So, idk. Just thank you all for being there for me. Since getting into the teen wolf fandom I have been so lucky to have you all on my side and for every new person that stumbles onto my fics. 
> 
> Wow, getting a little heart felt there. I've been in not the best place recently and I never feel like I know how to express my gratitude to comments. So this is for all of you. 
> 
> I'm going to go eat halloween candy now. Byeeeeee.


	9. banquet

After a ten-hour bus ride, Stiles would much rather be gearing up to expel some energy on the field, even if all he saw of it was the drills before the games.  Instead, he was giving his hair a quick run through with his gel and wishing he had gotten a new suit since his sophomore year winter ball.  It had a hole in the sleeve from where Peter had grabbed him and Stiles was never quite convinced he got all of Lydia’s blood out. 

Stupid fall banquet.  Stupid _two-day_ banquet.  Apparently last year they ducked out early on the first day because of a fight.  Matt and Nicky had been gossip bragging about it for half the fucking ride. 

Stiles fixed his tie again before stepping off the bus.  Everyone had managed to change with relative ease in the last twenty-minute stretch and they were practically late for the dinner.  Wymack corralled them with a representative of this year’s host school who led them to the banquet hall.  They were seated quickly and quietly, notably as far away as possible from the Ravens. 

They were seated at a large circular table.  Most teams had two or three tables to themselves, but even with their added numbers the Foxes were still able to squeeze into one.  It was buffet style, however, to promote teams to get up and move around, perhaps even talk to each other.  Stiles sat between Isaac and Nicky.  Most of them had grabbed food as fast as possible.  Allison was flirting with someone by the salad bar still and Ash’s plate was empty.  To be fair, she was getting over motion sickness from the ride.  A fact that had proven to be fun their last few away games, and this trip especially.  Luckily they had a bathroom on the team bus.  Stiles did not have fond memories of Jared back home.

“We have company,” Isaac whispered.  He had been tense since they entered.  Stiles could guess why.

“What the hell is Max Cartwell starring at us for?” Dan asked, staring behind Stiles with her nose scrunched up. 

“Who?” Neil asked from two seats over, trying to get a good look.

“Oh, you never got to learn about the dumb clique last year,” Matt said.  “Too busy with Riko’s inner circle instead.”

“What clique?” Jack asked, clearly intrigued by any sort of hierarchy he could insert himself in.

Matt shook his head.  “I don’t think that anyone really knows.  There doesn’t seem to be any link between the random people they choose each year, if they choose anyone.”

“Two guesses,” Stiles muttered. 

Before anyone could gossip further about the click, a tall boney ginger came up behind Kevin and Neil with a slack jawed expression.  “Holy shit.  It’s really you.” 

Kevin and Neil both visibly tensed, not wanting to have some freshmen fanboy gossip over last year’s events to them.    It took only a few seconds to notice the ginger was staring at Stiles. 

“You’re Stiles Stilinski,” the ginger said.  “From Beacon Hills.  I’m from Seattle.  Heard so much about what happed.”   He was nearly bouncing out of his shoes with excitement.  Stiles glared at him so strongly it was a surprise the kid didn’t take the hint.

Before anything else could be said, however, the 5th year goalie from the High Point Panthers Max Cartwell stalks over and clamps the ginger on the shoulder.  “That’s enough, Jim,” he says with an easy grin. 

Everyone at the table was staring at the new comers suspiciously.  It was also easy to tell that many were trying valiantly to not shoot Stiles some meaningful looks. 

Max turns his attention to Stiles and his grin widens.  “Stilisnki.  I wanted to thank you for handling Martinelli before anyone else had the chance to speak with him about abusing power.”

Stiles crossed his arms.  Benjamin Martinelli was number 22 from their first game against UMBC.  Max was purposefully bringing attention to events that didn’t need attention.  Some sort of power play to pull Stiles away from his own team and under Max’s thumb. 

“I don’t really appreciate your alpha posturing, Cartwell,” Stiles said, glaring.  It was easy to tell that his seniority over the ginger, Jim, wasn’t just due to age.  Stiles would bet his first born that Max’s eyes flashed red.

Max’s grin spread, eyes twinkling with challenge.  “No, I don’t suppose you would.  Still.  We should talk.  It’s customary.”  Max turned his attention to the other two supernatural elements of the PSU team.  “Lahey,” he said with a nod.  “Nang.” 

Stiles wondered if Cartwell didn’t know Kira’s real last name or if he had enough tact to not use it.  Based on their conversation so far, Stiles figured it was the former.  Stiles looked past Max and Jim.  Ben was hovering, shoulders hunched, with two other older players.  They had played against one of them already, Isaac had sniffed her out too, but she hadn’t been a problem like 22 had. 

Stiles supposed it made sense, that they would have a secret clique.  Maybe all the college sport teams did.  There was no reason to draw unnecessary attention to the supernatural community when games were covered by press.  It was a middle ground.  They kept each other in check so they could all still enjoy the sports they loved.  Stiles idly wondered how many creatures made it professional. 

Stiles looked down at his barely touched food.  A DJ was setting up and Stiles was sure the organizers were going to turn this into a dance soon enough.  Stiles looked back to Max and shrugged.  “I’m not confirming any rumors,” he said casually, standing up.  “You get ten minutes.”  He looked over to Isaac and Kira.  “Come on.”

X

The entire table watched the weird trio walk away with the clique.  Even Wymack and Abby at the coach’s table five yards over stared open mouthed.  Five new freshmen to the clique was uncommon, but three from the same team was unprecedented.  Any from the Foxes was completely left field.  No one knew the criteria for the clique expect the people in the clique, but still. 

The weird trio.

“Does anyone want to explain to me what just happened?” Allison asked, finally returning with her salad. 

Dan shook her head, completely flummoxed.  “Is Stilisnki like a hometown hero or something?”

Andrew snorted, accidentally drawing attention to himself.  No one really dared ask him what he knew, but the curiosity was palpable.  He looked over to Neil.  They hadn’t really talked about Andrew’s interest in Stiles.  It wasn’t sexual or romantic, so it hadn’t been an issue.  Still, now even Neil couldn’t hide how much he wanted to know what Andrew had found out.

“Beacon Hills had death rate to challenge Los Angeles recently.”

Everyone gaped.  “How is that possible?” Renee asked.  She came from a violent city.  She saw death all the time.  Los Angeles had the statistics of being the place you’re most likely to be murdered than anywhere else in the country.

Andrew shrugged, bored.  “They had six serial killers in three years.  Plus a bunch of other murders.” Andrew didn’t bother checking responses.  Someone had dropped their fork to the ground.

“And you know this how?” Nicky asked, a hand to his sternum in shock. 

Andrew glared.  “Google.” 

“His dad’s the Sheriff,” Neil added.  “You think he got mixed up in some of it?”

Allison was already on her phone, pulling up all the articles Andrew had found.  “Isaac’s dad was killed by one of the serial killers,” she said. Everyone was horrified for a moment, even Jack looking upset.  Allion’s eyes bugged out.  “Which is totally chill because apparently he punished Isaac by locking him in a freezer in the basement.”

The horrified looks on everyone’s faces increased tenfold.  If Andrew hadn’t already learned this, he might have seen red.  As it was, he accepted there was no one he could hurt for that particular transgression.  

Nicky had joined Allison in the google stalking.  “How did none of us think of doing this earlier?” he asked himself.  “Oh wow, that Lydia girl was attacked by a mountain lion at a school dance.”

“Stiles was missing for a while!?” Dan exclaimed.  “What?  Was he kidnapped?  This is so unclear,” she was practically yelling at the article on her phone. 

“Woah, not the only one,” Matt said, shoving his phone under Dan’s nose.  From the angle, Andrew was able to tell it was the obituary for Veron Boyd, who had been found after months only to be stabbed a couple months later.  “Same last name,” Matt frowned.

“Think that’s bad,” Allison said.  “Here’s a picture of their friend _Allison_ who was killed in a mugging.”

“Isaac dated her, briefly,” Stiles said, slipping into his seat, seething with anger.  Isaac and Kira were still lingering with the clique on the far side of the room.  He speared some of his pasta salad with gusto.  He looked up, giving them all a darkly blank look.  “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you googling my history?  Please, continue.  What else can you find?”

There was a tense silence over the table as the upperclassmen put their phones away.  Which is when Ash, quiet Ash who liked to shadow Renee and studied Andrew in the goal like her life would depend upon it, spoke up.  “Were you really admitted to a mental health facility?” 

Stiles scratched at the back of his head.  Andrew noticed the way his thumb lingered over number five scarred into his skin behind the ear. 

“It turns out you can’t always trust yourself,” Stiles told them.  “Now stop prying, you’re never going to learn everything.  Too much weird shit happened.”

Surprisingly, it was Aaron who broke the tension.  “How come you’re not with Cartwell and Co.?”

Stiles shook his head, grinning now.  “I’m not actually one of them.  They just find me interesting to talk about.  Much like you guys.”  He winked Aaron who looked mortally offended.

“There’s nothing interesting about you,” Jack jeered.  “You’re just a freak.”

“Good.  Now that that’s been cleared,” Stiles said, wiping his fingers with a paper napkin and tossing it on the table.  “Did anyone bring alcohol?”

Immediately three bottles got placed on the table.  A bottle of gin from Renee’s purse, vodka from Allison’s, and rum from Dan’s. 

“You ladies are literal angels; did anyone ever tell you that?” Nicky grinned. 

“Victoria’s Secret,” Allison said, nonchalantly.  “They had a contract for me to sign and everything, before I decided to break someone’s nose on the exy field instead.”

X

Isaac stood by Kira as the macho club of exy continued their spiel.  It wasn’t that this was some secret society with secret plans and secret initiation they had to pass.  There was no agenda for them to worry about.  It was just a group of supernatural creatures making sure no one stepped out of line and ruined it all for the rest of them.  Sure, Max was a major dick, but he wasn’t evil. 

Regardless, Isaac was jealous that Stiles was able to verbally flip them the bird and head back to the table.  Everyone wanted to know about what really happened in Beacon Hills, which was irrelevant to the situation at hand: keeping powers from gaining an unfair advantage in exy.  They were lucky none of the other werewolves had done their research on him and Kira to find out they had both once lived in that hell hole of a town.

They still bugged him though, saying _surely_ he must know more having been on Stiles’s team.  Eventually Isaac got more than tired with it.  “Is there anything you guys actually need from us?  Or can we go back to pretending to enjoy this event with our team?”

“We want you to join our pack,” Max finally said.  “It’s an interim pack.  Just for the school year.”    

“How does that even work?” Kira asked.  “You’re all scattered.”

“And you being an alpha, that doesn’t seem very fair if we went toe to toe on the field,” Isaac snapped.

“Well we wouldn’t want her anyway,” Max scoffed, nodding to Kira.  “She was just invited over for formality.  Needs to know there’s a whole community with their eye on her.  But I don’t want any stupid foxes.”

Kira bristled.  Isaac placed a hand on her shoulder.  “And how does insulting my teammate play into winning me over?”

Max looked Isaac up and down.  “I think you’re smart enough to understand why this is a good deal.  You’ll have a family that understands what you’re going through.  We help each other out.”

Isaac shook his head.  “I’ve had a lot of experience jumping around packs.  I’m finally settling into one.  I’m not going to muck it up by lining myself with you.”  Isaac turned.  “Come on Kira.”

“Who’s your alpha, anyway?” Ben shot out with a threating grin.  “He must not be much if you can barely hold against me on the field.”

Isaac wanted to laugh.  “If this were a fight, not a game, trust me, I’d win.”

“You sound like Stiles,” Kira smirked. 

Isaac shrugged.  “He’s hard to ignore sometimes.”

Ben grabbed Isaac’s wrist.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

Isaac looked at the beefed up freshmen, then to Max, his temporary alpha.  The older student gave him a challenging look.  The rest of the werewolves standing around did nothing.  Isaac twisted his hand and got a grip on Ben in a half second.  He snapped the bone and dropped him. 

“Derek Hale.” 

Color drained out of Max’s face as Ben tried not to scream, holding his injured but healing arm to his chest.  This time, when Isaac turned to leave, no one stopped him.

X

“I have a feeling Cartwell wasn’t in charge last year,” Isaac said, slipping back into his seat.  He noticed the alcohol but didn’t reach for any.  It’s not like it would affect him anyway.  “Didn’t know jack shit about what he was talking about.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Stiles said. 

“I’ll tell you the details later,” Isaac nodded, digging into his plate.  The food had gone half cold but he didn’t care.  “But they insulted uh Kira’s heritage and didn’t seem to know I’m uh, living with the Hale family.”

Stiles laughed.  “You know, I want to call them idiots, but not everybody has to grow up treating everything like a high profile police investigation.”

Isaac noted the way Andrew and Neil were not so subtly eaves dropping.  The rest of the table was probably also trying to hear what was being said, but they didn’t seem to be as invested in the topic as the couple. 

Stiles leaned forward to look at Kira.  “You okay?”

Kira nodded.  “Kinda really glad they’re not too interested in me,” she smiled faintly. 

Stiles looked behind him to the rest of the banquet.  Most of the food had been picked over.  People were awkwardly flirting by the punch bowl.  There was a failing attempt and making a dance floor.

“What the fuck is on the agenda for tomorrow anyway?” Stiles asked the table at large.

The Foxes all looked at each other, upper classmen looking disgusted and resigned.  Even Renee looked disturbed when she spoke up.  “Communication workshops.”

The team was on the bus home the next morning at the ass crack of dawn, since the college had already paid for their hotel room and Wymack wanted to sleep before making that trip again. Not even Wymack wanted to suffer through communication workshops.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahhahahahhahaah i'm dying inside. the orange man is going to be our president. i had a 100 degree fever on election night. my depression is getting really bad. PLEASE EMAIL YOUR LEGISLATORS TO PASS THE NATIONAL POPULAR VOTE IF YOU ARE A US CITIZEN! Technically the electoral college doesn't have to vote what the said they would on election night???? And can change their mind to the popular vote come their election day on the 19th. So like, we have a few days to try and convince some of the states to switch over, I guess. Idk if it'll work but we might as well try. I've never been outwardly political like this, but it's one of the few things I can do. Now back to fan fiction because it's the only thing to really keep me going right now.


	10. all it takes

Kira stared at the set of keys dangling from Stiles’s fingers.  “How did you get those?” she asked, slightly in awed excitement, mostly in worry. 

Stiles shrugged.  “Managed to nick Kevin’s pair and made a copy.  Come on, their night practice is over.  We can either use the court or go find an empty field somewhere.  I’m sure there’s lots of them.”

Isaac rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Let’s go.”

“Wait.  Why?” Kira asked, confused.  They had been doing fine.  Practices were hard, but the team was shaping up.  Neil and Jack still fought on the field, and if Andrew was in a bad mood it affected everyone, but they were figuring out ways to work around everything and come together better.  They’ve won over half of all their games so far, and there were only two more left before semester break.  They were going to start in a good spot for next semester. 

And none of them were planning on being career players.  Kira couldn’t even if she wanted to.  She lived too long to be under public spotlight for longer than her college career.  It would become obvious pretty quick that she wasn’t aging like the rest.

Isaac and Stiles gave her identical looks.  “Come on,” Isaac said, jerking his head towards the Camaro. 

It became fairly obvious once they were geared up and on the field what the game plan was. 

Tackle Kira.

Kira froze up and let herself be hit every time.  Isaac tore his helmet off and poked her with his racket.  “Look.  You’re not going to hurt me.  You _know_ you’re not going to hurt me if you push back.  So, push back.  Use _me_.  Then we’ll make sure you don’t go too far using Stiles as your practice dummy.”

“I,” Kira started, her voice caught in her throat.  She didn’t know what else to say.

Stiles lobbed a ball at her from further down the field once she was on her feet again.  She caught it on reflex.  The moment the ball was in her net Isaac ran forward.  Kira froze and got knocked to the ground.  Again.

She sat up and pulled her helmet off.  “I’m sorry!  I can’t do this.”  She tossed her stick away and scrambled to her feet.  There was a threat of tears stinging the corner of her eyes.  “You don’t get it.  If I slip up, even _once_ , they’ll take me back.  I have a month and a half to get through.”

“You can’t live in fear, Kira,” Stiles said, jogging over.  “You said this was a trial run, right?”

She nodded, eyes bugged with the _duh_ she didn’t bother voicing. 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair.  It was getting long enough it started to curl past his ears.  “Look, I may not have been subjected to these skin walkers like you have, but I know a thing or two about supernatural contracts.  Do you remember why you went to them in the first place?”

Kira huffed.  “Because I was losing control and speaking in Japanese about killing people?”

Stiles shook his head.  “That was a symptom.  You were losing control because you were afraid of the kitsune you share space with.  Trust me, I get how that feels.  But the difference between my experience and yours is that the nogitsune isn’t supposed to exist.  It takes hold of a body because it doesn’t have one.  You’re born with a second spirit in you.  They’re both you, just one with the wisdom of generations.  Like, I don’t know, the avatar or some shit.  You’re afraid of yourself.  If the skin walkers see that you’re still afraid, that’s enough reason to take you back as if you let the fox take over.”

He scooped up the ball that had rolled out of Kira’s racket.  “Now I’ll stay here to make sure nothing happens.  If there’s even a whiff of you losing control, I’ll shut that down before it can be considered a breach of your trial period.  You work on being sure of yourself with Isaac.”

Kira didn’t know what to say.  She shoved her helmet back on her head to hide the tears.  Isaac could probably smell them. 

“Okay,” she whispered.  “Okay.”

“Now, come on,” Isaac said.  “We only have a month and a half.”

X

Stiles was doing his math homework during his boring to death communication’s class when the lecture got interrupted by someone Stiles could only assume to be an administrator of some sort.  He apologized for interrupting the class and then whispered something back and forth with the professor.  It only took a moment and the professor was nodding.

“Mr. Stilinski?” his professor questioned.  He was marked for attendance by the TAs but the professor had no idea who he actually was.  Stiles snapped his head up, surprised.  What the hell had he done?  The professor somehow caught his deer in the headlights look out of the whole lecture hall and gestured for him to come down.

Stiles scrambled to put all his things into his bag and headed to the front of the class.  Whispers followed him, and honestly their guess was as good as his.  This could have something to do with the team, or with his scholarship, or with his illegal use of the exy court, or worse.  Something could have happened to his dad and they were pulling him out of class to notify him. 

Stiles worked himself up to a steady panic by the time he followed the administrator into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” the admin said, looking truly sheepish.  He was youngish, mid-thirties.  He wore it like a lot of people who were almost millennials but not actually.  Like he was still one of the kids but slightly detached.  “There’s a campus issue I needed to speak with you about immediately.”

“Um,” Stiles said, not sure what else to say.  Campus issue?  He honestly couldn’t think of anything. 

“There’s no one else on campus with experience in…” he trailed off.  “We don’t want to get any, uh, authorities involved.”  He said simply.  Stiles was only more confused.  “We thought, well, I thought, with your expertise in the matter.”

He said it like he had just finished a presentation, laying out all the points.  Stiles looked at him blankly. 

The admin dropped his shoulders.  “You are Stiles Stilinski, of Beacon Hills?” he asked doubtfully.

“Uh, yeah?”

The older man chewed at his lip like a nervous habit before looking around and apparently throwing caution to the wind.  “There’s a rogue omega on campus and I’d like to ask for your assistance in corralling it.”

Stiles blinked.  Once.  Twice.  He kept his eyes closed the third and breathed heavily through his nose.  This was his life.  He was never really going to escape it.

“What damage has been done?” Stiles asked.  “Where?  And who else is on this?”  He motioned for the admin to lead the way and they started outside and through campus. 

“Campus security got attacked last night by the library.  There was a really shaken grad student who said they saw a monster but blamed it on the red bull.  Security’s too proud to admit anything.  No one was hurt, but we assume if they’re on campus and shifted they’re probably not in control.”

Stiles nodded.  It wasn’t even a full moon last night.  “Sniffed anything out?”

There was no way this admin wasn’t another werewolf.  He shrugged.  “I was just send to find you.  We generally wouldn’t be involving a student in an incident like this,” he hedged, “but we want to deal with this without bloodshed, if possible.  And you’re uniquely qualified.”

He noticed they were heading towards one of the gyms on campus.  “Who’s this _we_ you keep mentioning?” Stiles asked.

“The other faculty who are, uh, members of my community,” he said as a student zipped by.  They wouldn’t have been paying attention, but Stiles understood the precaution to be quiet.  When it was just them, the admin adjusted his tie and looked at Stiles nervously.  “We’re actually a part of the same pack, territory just north of here.  We rarely have any sort of, uh, disturbances.” That pause was simply because this administrator was become very flustered. 

There was a man that Stiles thought might have been the women’s soccer coach standing by the gym entrance, impatiently waiting for them.  Stiles wondered if this man was the reason the admin was so nervous.  Stiles sighed.  He should have asked for a name. 

The coach nodded to Stiles as they approached.  “You the emissary?”

Stiles clenched his jar.  “Not technically,” he said.  “What do you need me for?”

The coach and the admin traded glances before the coach pulled out his phone and dialed.  “Carol is out tracking the omega now.  It went by here some time ago, but its scent is really weak for whatever reason.  We’re having a hard time locating it.  Plus, we’d like to avoid some big claw fight in the middle of campus.”

Stiles snorted.  “Fair.  Got anything off it?”  He put his hand out, expecting.  If they were looking for an emissary, they knew what kind of stuff he could and couldn’t do. 

The line must have connected because the coach began talking to whoever Carol was to figure out her current location.  As he talked, the coach dug into his track jacket and pulled out what looked to be a dirty clump a fur.

Stiles was so excited to be touching that.

He took it gingerly in his hands and tried his best not to grimace.  He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.  Stiles sniffed it himself, although he knew he couldn’t track a scent. 

“Carol’s followed it towards the construction site.  It’s probably hiding out around there.”

Stiles sighed.  Of course it was.  Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a small draw string pouch that never left his person.  It should be enough to make a circle of mountain ash, but he had a different idea in mind. 

“This is pretty fresh,” he told them, following the coach and admin to what seemed to be the coach’s car.  He would worry about getting into a car with strangers later.  “There’s some skin cells with it.  And blood.”  All good things.  Which, really, his fucking life.

“Tore it off the thing myself when I caught it going after the campus security,” the coach huffed, starting the engine.  “That was probably eleven or so last night?”

“About ten hours.  I can work with that,” Stiles muttered.  He pinched out a bit of the black, ground up tree bark and sprinkled it over the clod of fur.

The thing about magic was that it didn’t take words.  It took will.  It took symbolism.  It took _meaning_.  That’s why voodoo was so popular.  They really got the whole thing down, as far as Stiles was concerned.  This, though, now that he knew what he was doing, this was easy. 

“It won’t last long,” he told them. 

“What won’t?” the admin asked.

“The hold.  It’s going to try and break free.  If we can find it before then I can put a full barrier around it.  Keep it there until you figure out what to do with it.”

And that’s exactly what happened.  They met up with Carol, a woman in a pencil skirt and hair that was slightly out of place.  Her heels were in one hand.  She was staring at the omega, dumbfounded.  He was frozen to the spot, struggling to move.  It was clear he’d succeed soon.  Stiles threw out his pouch and that would hold no matter what the omega’s strength. 

“You have someone to call who can break that when you figure out what to do?”

“Yeah,” Carol said, a little stunned at his display.  “You’re the Stilinski kid.” 

Stiles nodded.  “Nice meeting you all.  I have to get back to class."  He left them all, knowing he wasn’t actually needed anymore, and began the long walk back to the main part of campus.

X

“It was amazing,” Stiles huffed, flopping backwards onto his bed.  “I barely did anything.  And it’s resolved.  We didn’t even need to call in the cavalry.”

Isaac looked at him from his own bed where he was trying to read Hamlet.  “Yeah, that’s what it’s normally like.”

“That’s it?” Stiles laughed, an edge of hysterics creeping in.  “That’s all it takes?”

Isaac nodded, eyes swimming as they tried to grab onto the foreign sounding prose in his hands.  “Yeah.  Outside of Beacon Hills, it’s like everything’s easy.  Stay away from nemetons and the worst you get is a stray.  And when hunters do what they’re supposed to, you don’t even have to worry that far.”

Stiles let out another breathy half laugh.  Isaac smelled the salty taste of tears.  He didn’t say anything.

X

Kevin did ask about the incident, having seen Stiles get in the car with who was apparently Coach Mills of the girls’ soccer team and a study abroad advisor.  He was more curious than suspicious, but of course Andrew overheard and then it became a Thing.  Stiles was doing his best to just ignore them. 

“Well clearly Coach Mills wants me to substitute for one of his players in their upcoming international game in Italy,” he had said, waving it off like they were the crazy ones. 

Andrew was apparently keeping eyes on him now, though.  Like, he always seemed just around the corner.  It was getting disturbing because Stiles knew Andrew didn’t have any supernatural abilities. 

Still, it meant that Andrew was around for, well…

Stiles was half drunk on cheap whiskey he convinced Renee to buy for him.  Friday night and no game that weekend, all his homework for the week done early because Stiles was a _beast_ at this whole college thing.  He deserved a night to get drunk on his own without Andrew and company dragging him to Eden’s Twilight for scrutiny and vague threats. 

Stiles stumbled out of his dorm room, planning on heading to the second floor commissary to pick up an over priced bag of chips.  He crashed straight into a very familiar body clad in a leather jacket and stubble.  Stiles yelped and flailed backwards. 

Frozen with wide eyes and hand raised to knock at the door was one, devastatingly handsome as always, Derek Hale.

“What the fuck?” Stiles wheezed.  He slapped his own face to either make sure he wasn’t dreaming or sober himself up.  He couldn’t be sure. 

“Uh, sorry,” Derek said, sheepish.  “I was looking for Isaac.”

“He’s uh,” Stiles wasn’t sure actually, “not here.”

“Yeah.  Sorry.”  They stood there for a moment or two.  Or three or four.  Stiles stared at Derek as the older man fixed his gaze to the floor.  Derek looked good.  Less gaunt in the face, less bruised around the eyes.  Healthy.  Happy.  Put together. 

“Stilinski!” Andrew’s voice shouted from halfway down the hall.  Stiles flinched with his whole body. 

“Jesus Christ, Andrew.  What?”

Andrew just looked between Stiles and Derek and raised an eyebrow. 

Stiles sighed deeply.  “I just wanted a bag of chips,” he said to the ceiling.  “Everything’s fine.  Stop spying on me.”  Without much thought, Stiles grabbed onto the lapel of Derek’s leather jacket and pulled him into the otherwise empty dorm room.  He slammed the door to the hallway in satisfaction before realizing exactly what he’d done and who he was with.  

Oh, whiskey.  What mistakes were we making tonight?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh things are Happening. /finally/ I feel like this story has been nothing but a bunch of head canons at this point since there hasn't been much sterek interactions. whelp. onto the next chapter.


	11. soft

Stiles just pulled Derek into his dorm room.  Stiles just pulled _Derek Hale_ into his _dorm room_.  Now was not a time to hyperventilate.  His heart was steady as he turned around to face the asshole in the leather jacket.  He knew how to control his heart.  Stiles ran a hand through his hair in attempt to control the rest of him.

“I think Isaac’s at a movie,” Stiles said.  “Not sure when he’ll be back.”  Stiles looked around, unsure if he should offer Derek a seat or a drink or just walk away in the bedroom area and shut the door.  “What’s so important that you came all the way down from Nebraska?” It only just occurred to him that Derek shouldn’t just casually be in town.

Derek cleared his throat and shifted his weight awkwardly.  “Actually, Cora and I are going to move here.  We’re staying at a hotel right now as we look at properties a few miles south of campus.”

Stiles chewed at his bottom lip.  “Oh.  Well, then.  I guess you can stay here and wait for Isaac if you want, but like I said I don’t know when he’s going to be back so you might just text him to find that out and then come back.” Stiles realized he was rambling and picked up the whiskey he had started on and took another swig. 

Derek sat down on the couch. 

Because of course he did.

“Isaac said you had a run in with an omega last week,” Derek said with a frown.  “The Nelson Pack take care of it?”

Stiles shrugged.  “I didn’t exactly stick around and grab their names.  One guy said they’re camped north of here.”

Derek nodded.  “Which is why I’m looking south.  They’re a good pack, but it’s always best to put some distance between.”

Stiles nodded and took another swig of whiskey.

“Figured if my pack is just me, Cora, and Isaac, we should station where Isaac’s going to be most of the year.”

Stiles nodded again, unsure what to say.  Unsure what he wanted to say.  He’d already yelled at Derek.  Told him he didn’t want to be chummy and forget he ever abandoned them.  Stiles couldn’t hate him for leaving, not when it was something Derek so desperately needed.  He could hate him for not keeping in touch, for not letting them know where he was going, for letting them worry all over again since the last time he was gone for any length of time it was because he had been kidnapped to Mexico.  Stiles could hate Derek for that, at least. 

But now, bordering on drunk and alone with Derek, Stiles couldn’t find anything in himself except that sense there was always so much left unsaid between them.  And even now, he couldn’t find the words.

Stiles took another swig of whiskey.

“Going a little hard there,” Derek said, the frown heavy in his voice.  Stiles didn’t need to look over to feel the disapproving look he was getting. 

“I like getting drunk,” Stiles said.  “Helps me sleep.”

“That’s not healthy, Stiles.”

Stiles snorted.  “Yeah, no shit.  I don’t do it often.  Just nights I don’t have school or a game the next day.  Which is less than most college students get black out drunk.  So.”  He shrugged and tried to ignore the intense gaze that was directed at him.  “You ever pissed you can’t get drunk?”

“You still don’t sleep?” Derek asked quietly, ignoring Stiles’s attempt at a jab.

The softness of his voice caught Stiles off guard.  Derek had been a lot of things.  He’d been abrasive, self-destructive, rash, controlling, caring, lost, scared, broken, vulnerable, strong, powerful, determined, hopeful.  He’d been someone Stiles trusted.  There was a reason it hurt so much that he left.  But Stiles would have never called him soft.

Stiles looked up and made the mistake of looking into Derek’s pale hazel eyes. 

Fuck.

Stiles shook his head and then blinked at the sudden wave of dizziness.  He was drunker than he realized.  He set the whiskey down heavily on his desk, the weight of the alcohol sitting in his mouth like a tingling tongue depressor.  “I have a lot of reasons for nightmares,” he said simply, running a hand over his face.  He huffed a watery laugh, bitter at the way his emotions weren’t obeying him.  “How the hell do you sleep?”

Derek kept his eyes on Stiles.  “I’ve been going to therapy.  Started a new hobby.”

Stiles eyed Derek up and down.  He still looked awkward in the space he was taking up, unsure of himself in Stiles’s territory for all it was co-owned by his own pack member.  Stiles wanted to join him on the couch, to forget he was ever upset at Derek.  He was drunk.  But not drunk enough to do that. 

“That work for you?” Stiles asked, leaning against the wall by his desk. 

Derek nodded.  “Didn’t expect it to, but yeah.”

Stiles hummed. 

“You seem different,” Derek said.

Stiles snorted.  “No shit.”

“What happened?”

It was asked so simply, as if it were only a skinned knee. You already know half the story: they must have fallen.  And the injury?  Not a huge deal. But perhaps there was some sort of instinct to clean it up, help it heal. 

Like anything about Stiles was simple.

“I think that story will take longer than I’m willing to talk,” Stiles said.

“You?  Unwilling to talk?” Derek joked, his voice still that soft quality.  Trying not to spook a scared animal.

Stiles rolled his eyes, blinking again when the world spun for a second.  “One of the many changes about me, I guess.”

Silence stretched between them.  Stiles kept his eyes away from Derek, fighting with himself to just leave the asshole to his own devices.  Crawl into bed.  Go buy those chips.  Something.  He couldn’t convince himself to leave.

“You know, when Isaac got asked to come to Palmetto, he didn’t sign the contract right away.  We told Coach Wymack that there were family matters that needed to be discussed first.  We looked into the world here.  The supernatural community.  Then we found out that you were on the freshman line up.  I told Isaac to go for it, if it was what he really wanted.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles asked, trying to keep his curiosity out of his voice.

Derek sighed and stood up, crossing the small living room to Stiles’s desk.  “It means, that knowing you were here, it made me feel safe in letting Isaac go.”

Stiles let out a harsh laugh.  “You think I’m some kind of super wizard like every other werewolf I seem to meet here?”

Derek shook his head.  “Because I know that you’ll do anything to help others.”

“You forgot the part where I hate Isaac,” Stiles huffed.

Derek, the jerk, smirked and shook his head.  “That was never true.”

Stiles didn’t say anything.  He had a feeling that even with a steady heartbeat, Derek would be able to hear the lie. 

“I hate you.” Stiles whispered, breath caught in his throat by Derek’s proximity. 

Derek blinked, surprise at catching the lie washing his features.  “Stiles.”  His name hung in the air like a half formed promise, primed to break any second.

“I should go to bed, I’m really drunk,” Stiles muttered, pushing past Derek to head to the bedroom. 

“Stiles!” Derek said again, this time urgent.  Unsure but determined. 

A careful grip wrapped around Stiles’s bicep and he stumbled from the resistance.  Derek’s other hand came up to steady him as Stiles turned around.  They were too close.  Stiles was too drunk. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, softer this time. 

Soft. 

“I’m drunk, Derek.”

“I can tell,” he joked, staring at Stiles with those impossibly pale eyes.  They stayed there for a moment, just staring at each other.  Stiles wasn’t sure how long.  Perception was sort of fucked out the window with how much whiskey was in his system.  “I’m sorry,” Derek finally said.  “For leaving the way I did.  I thought if I cut you off it would be easier to not come back.”

“Must have worked,” Stiles bit out.

A thumb stroked the skin just past his t-shirt.  A chill ran down Stiles’s spine.  _Not now_ , he tried to tell himself.  _Not with him_.

“I thought about you all, a lot.  I was worried, a lot.  Rumors kept finding their way to me, and I never knew if they were real or not.”

“If this is your way of asking you’re doing a shit job of it,” Stiles told him flatly. 

“It’s not.  It’s.” Derek cut off with an aggravated groan.  “I don’t even know.” He traced his thumb one more time against Stiles’s arm before dropping his hands.  “I just wanted to let you know that I was an asshole for not talking to you, but I never forgot about you.  I never want to go back there, but I…”

Stiles stared at Derek’s hands, hanging by his sides, fingers twitching slightly like he’s itching to cross his arms protectively. 

“But what, Derek?”  He looked up.  There was that mistake again.  Stiles always felt so swept away when he looked too closely at Derek Hale’s eyes.

“But I wanted to see you.”

Stiles nodded and looked away, like that kind of confession was expected or normal.  Like his world wasn’t trying reshape itself around him, pulling strings tighter on whatever loom of fate his life was weaving. 

“Isaac will probably be home soon.  He left a while ago for that movie.  I’m going to.” He jerked his thumb towards the bedroom door before his feet found the courage to follow.  “Night, Derek.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Even the promise of a solid six hours of sleep wasn’t enough to feel better. 

Fuck.

X

Stiles was still awake when Isaac got back.  Jack was off fuck knows where, thankfully, and he didn’t have to deal with that load of drama.  He couldn’t make out whatever Isaac and Derek were saying to each other, but eventually the main door open and closed again.  A short while later, the bedroom door opened, a stream of light pouring in with it. 

“Sorry about that,” Isaac said.  “I told him I wasn’t going to be in until late, but.”  Isaac shrugged.

Derek knew that Isaac wasn’t going to be here when he came over.  Stiles scrunched his eyes shut and tried to process everything in his whiskey addled brain.  Derek had come over to talk to Stiles.

Fuck.

He rolled over and faced the far wall.  Isaac took that as a dismissal.  It was good enough for now.  Isaac left to shut the living room light off before coming back to the bedroom.  The door shut completely and Stiles fell asleep to the dull sounds of Isaac getting ready for bed. 

X

Saturday found Stiles awake by five, still drunk rather than hungover.  He decided it was a good idea to throw on some sweats and take a jog with the sunrise.  He wasn’t sure why his drunk brain thought exercise was the answer, but it did.  By the time the sun had fully risen, he had sweat the alcohol out of his system and cursed the fact it hadn’t let him sleep longer. 

Stiles made his way back to the dorm.  Isaac was still asleep.  Jack hadn’t come back last night.  Whatever rager he went to, Stiles would bet a hundred bucks he was in Sheena’s bed.  Stiles quickly stripped and showered before throwing on what were probably clean clothes and headed out for breakfast.  The dining halls weren’t open this early on weekends but Stiles did have _some_ spending money.  There was a all-night diner just off campus not far from the fox tower that Stiles had only been to at four in the morning for coffee and a place to read. 

He settled into his usual booth.  The place a lot fuller than four in the morning, but his booth luckily empty.  It wasn’t long before he had a stack of pancakes and some egg and sausage and a strong cup of coffee.  They had a practice that afternoon, but it felt like a long way away.  He thought over what he could waste his time doing.  His school work was done for now and the only non-school activity he had was exy. 

Stiles suddenly realized that outside of the foxes, he didn’t really know anyone.  Sure, he had a group project or two, but no one he clicked with in those groups enough to talk outside of class.  He’d gotten drunk at a random frat house for Halloween, but fuck if he actually knew anyone from the spare, _I know you from class_ , and a couple of cheerleaders that were at all their games.  Some other students recognized him from the sport, but it’s not like he has any of their numbers.  The foxes were… not great necessarily, but definitely consuming.  Whether he wanted to admit it or not, they were his friends, his campus family.

Stiles thought again about what he could do with his time when he didn’t want to deal with the foxes until practice and didn’t have any other friends.  Something Lydia said itched at the back of his mind.  With all the free time he had now, despite the overbearing course load, despite the demanding practice and game schedule, in spite of the insomnia… If Stiles dedicated the time he used to spend chasing monsters and focused it on exy… He could be good.  Maybe never on the level of Neil or Kevin, or even Matt and Andrew, but good enough to earn his spot on a division one team for more than just his quick strategic mind on the field. 

He had just gone for a run, but now it wasn’t just Lydia’s half remembered words that were itching at him.  Stiles left a handful of bills at his table once he got his check.  It was eight in the morning.  Half the campus was still asleep, and the foxes would be no exception.  It was a long walk to the exy court, but it settled his stomach from the heavy breakfast.  He punched in the key code to the athlete’s entrance, grabbed his stick from the locker and…

He paused.  He was going to just go out and practice his angles against the plexi glass until he got bored, but then he looked at his backup stick.  He hadn’t used it since their first game when UMBC’s star freshmen turned out to be sporting claws.  It was dangerous to keep the stick like that.  If an official found out he had modified his stick, it could lead to serious repercussions.  Stiles may not like Max Cartwell, but knowing he was keeping other supernatural players like Benjamin Martinelli in check, that there was a system in place so that Stiles wouldn’t _need_ his modified stick, well, it was enough. 

For once, trusting in something out of his control was enough.

Stiles pulled out his extra stick and uncorked the rubber stopper at the end.  He was prepared for the flow of mountain ash tumbling out, and was able to guide it using _the power of his mind_ (something like that would never get old) into his emergency pouch. 

“What the fuck?”

Stiles froze.  Well.  Shit.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnn


	12. stay

“What the fuck?”

As Stiles startled, the weird black stuff that had been _floating in the air or some shit_ dropped to the ground and scattered, like someone had cut strings. 

“Uhh,” Stiles drawled out as he craned his neck around.  Their eyes locked and Stiles gulped.

Wymack felt as if he was having a heart attack.  “The black stuff was flying,” he muttered, staring at the stuff that was now all over Stiles and the locker room floor.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles squeaked.  He began to scoop up the black stuff as fast as he could, shoveling it into the bag in his hand.

Wymack clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to process what he had just seen.  Surely, _surely_ that couldn’t have been real.  But when Wymack walked in, the specks of black were streaming from Stiles’s exy racket and into the pouch and it wasn’t because of gravity.  He blinked.  Wymack straightened his back and folded his arms and attempted to put on his best stern face.  “Disregarding the fact you seem to have been tampering with official equipment…” Wymack trailed off, unsure how to continue.  He’d chew Stiles out for that after he figured out what the hell was going on. 

He needed to make a phone call.

Wymack jabbed a finger in Stiles’s direction.  “Stay here.”  He jabbed it again for emphasis before backing out into the hall.  “DON’T EVEN THINK OF MOVING!” he called out as he reached his office. 

He slammed the door behind him and raced for Stiles’s file. 

A few minutes later the call was connecting and an unconcerned “ _Hello, this is Sheriff Stilinski speaking,”_ answered.

“You told me your son’s life was complicated, that het got mixed up with some local problems that you briefly laid out for me, and that there were some things I’d have to learn from him,” Wymack started.  “You didn’t prepare me for freaking telekinesis!” 

There was a brief pause on the other line.  “ _Telekinesis_?”

“He was moving stuff with his mind, Mr. Stilinski.”

“ _Was… was it like black ash?”_

“Yeah,” Wymack bit out.  Clearly Stiles’s father knew what he was talking about.

_“That’s a special thing.  He can’t move other stuff with his mind.  I don’t think.  I told you there were some things I couldn’t explain.”_

Wymack pinched the bridge of his nose.  He counted to five and let out a deep breath.  “Listen.  I found out that I had a son only earlier this year.  The reason I didn’t know about him for so long is complicated and left him a very traumatized young man.  I get not being able to explain things or needing to let the kid tell me in his own time, and you gave me the basics to help me understand how to handle him.  I _get that_.  But this is freaky shit and a lot more out of my depth than expected!  And last year I had to deal with the yakuza.”

There was a silence on the other line followed by a crackling of the receiver picking up a heavy sigh.  _“Whatever you saw,”_ Stilinski said, _“doesn’t scratch the surface of it.  But if it’s been this long before you noticed anything, and there’s been no extreme danger in the area, then everything’s probably fine.  I trust my kid._ ”

Wymack chewed those words over.  “Is your son dangerous, Mr. Stilinski?”

 _“Dangerous?  No.”_ There was a beat of silence.  _“But he is very powerful.”_

Wymack ended the call and knew he had to keep his momentum going with this.  Whatever it was.  He opened the door, not knowing if he’d have to track down Stiles or not, only to find the kid leaning against the wall.  “How much of that did you hear?”

Stiles shrugged.  “Did my dad think I’m dangerous?”

Wymack frowned.  Clearly the kid’s father cared about him.  All the testimony he’d gathered showed that the two were very close and protective and there was nothing abusive going on in that respect, unlike so many other Foxes.  But it seemed as if they may not have been talking since Stiles came to Palmetto State. 

“No, Stiles.  He doesn’t.”

X

When Wymack had left him alone, Stiles thought about running for it.

He could have made it back to the dorms and grab a good hunk of stuff before catching a bus.  The problem was he had nowhere to go.  He couldn’t even go home, as much as he knew his dad missed him.  He didn’t think running would solve anything.  Wymack would be even more confused, and would probably keep a closer eye on Isaac and Kira now, either way.  He wished he knew a way to make people lose memory, but that was outside his skill set. 

And frankly, if he was being honest with himself, he was starting to like Palmetto State and the Foxes.  He was even starting to like Andrew in some deranged sense of friendship.  Kind of like being friends with Jackson for that half second sophomore year.  Andrew might even be nicer.

So, instead, Stiles placed his now regulation ready racket into his locker, threw the pouch of mountain ash into his bag, and hedged out to the hallway just in time to catch Wymack on the phone with his father.

Stiles wasn’t sure he believed Wymack that his father didn’t think him dangerous.  Stiles was dangerous.  His dad witnessed that first hand.  But either way, Wymack seemed to believe it mostly.  Stiles was invited into Wymack’s office and asked to sit and to please explain.

“It’s not anything you need to worry about, okay?  Nothing’s going on, no one’s in danger.  My circumstances may be weird but there’s no trouble following me like it does Neil.”

Wymack frowned and sat back in his chair.  “Look, I’m not sure if I even _want_ to know all the weird shit you’ve gotten yourself into.  I know the official Beacon Hills history, but listen, I watched Buffy, and if anything like that is real I’d like to stay out of it.  But as your coach I gotta know about your racket.”

Stiles bobbed his head up and down trying to think of what he should say.  Wymack beat him to it.

“That’s the racket you used in our first game this year,” Wymack frowned.  “The one against that crazy freshmen striker.”

Stiles grimaced.  “Yeah.”

“So, what’d you do to it?  Because just having a heavier stick shouldn’t have knocked that kid back.”

“It’s uh,” Stiles started, chewing the inside of his cheek.  “He’s.  Look, Benjamin Martinelli is a – I’m not going to out him.  He might a jerk, but it’s his life.  But, listen.  He has above human abilities.  And the mountain ash I put in my stick sort of leveled the playing field.  That’s it.”

Wymack nodded, eyes distant.  “You said Isaac and Martinelli had the same weakness.”

Stiles inwardly cursed.  “Good memory,” he muttered.  “Yeah.  The difference is, you don’t need to level the playing field with Isaac because he doesn’t use his, whatever, abilities on the field.”

“Is that what the clique is for?  At the banquet?” 

Stiles nodded.  “They keep each other in check so no one gets caught out by acting the way that striker did in his first game.”

Wyamck ran a hand over his face.   “You know, this is.” He snapped his mouth shut and nodded a few times, clearing thinking things over.  He let out a semi hysterical laugh.  “My life is never going to be uncomplicated,” he told the ceiling before focusing his attention back on Stiles.  “Look, kid.  You’re a good player.  You’re smart on the field.  I know you’re trying to keep in your lane, and that’s fine.  And I guess Isaac and Kira are part of that.  Okay.  Cool.  I’m not going to ask questions.  But if I found out by accident, you can bet your ass the resident Sherlock will find out.”

Stiles scoffed.  “I thought I was the super detective!”

Wymack gave him a dead look.  “Andrew does not like secrets, he does not like the unknown.  I’m willing to let things go for the good of the individual so they can come to terms with things in their own time, but if he perceives a threat…” Wymack shook his head.  “Just be careful, okay?”

“Always am.”

Wymack scoffed.  “I highly doubt that.”

Stiles stood up, feeling the end of their conversation.  Wymack would have real questions later, when he’s come to terms with the idea that Buffy might be real.  For now, though, this would be enough.  “I’ll see you at practice.”

“Yeah,” Wymack said, his voice fading.  “Yeah.”

X

Stiles was a bit more careful going forward.  He always double checked the area before Kira’s late night practices and he finished cleaning out his exy racket so there was no trace of the black powder.  Wymack gave the three of them odd looks during practices and hesitated before putting Isaac onto the field on their last game.  He was a lot more attentive to how they played, but nothing seemed wrong or different, it wouldn’t.  Other than that first game, which the rest of the team counted as a fluke, there wasn’t anything supernatural happening on the field. 

For now, they were safe.

Although sometimes Wymack's eyes would go distant and ask Stiles something like: "That time with Coach Mills?  That was..."

And Stiles would confirm that yes, it was supernaturally related.  Wymack would nod his head a few times and walk away muttering to himself.  There weren't as many things to connect to the supernatural as there were in Beacon Hills, not by a long shot, but Wymack seemed to be putting things together at his own pace.  

"No one's a vampire though, right?  Like, this isn't  _actually_ Buffy."

Stiles shook his head that time.  "Haven't met a vampire yet.  Don't think they're real."

He looked relieved.  "Good." 

X

Stiles stared at the notice that had been taped to his door.  To all the doors.  It was a reminder that the dorms would be closed for the holidays and when was the latest hour they could stay here once the semester ended.

It felt so far away.  They had one more game to play, Stiles hadn’t even started studying for his finals.  The semester was almost over.

“Shit,” he hissed.  He had forgotten to make arrangements. 

“What?”

Stiles turned to look further down the hall.  Dan was coming back from class and unlocking her door and his little expletive had gained her attention.   

“Nothing,” he muttered.  Stiles would call up Scott and figure out what he was doing.  And Lydia.  They were probably more on top of things than Stiles.  There were two weeks left of classes and he had completely forgotten about – no, he hadn’t forgotten.  He had pushed off thinking about it and now he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Don’t give me that crap, Stilinski,” Dan said.  She swung her door open and flung her bag in before shutting it again.  Dan obviously didn’t miss the notice on her own door. 

He wouldn’t be able to escape into his room at this point anyway.  Dan marched over, a steely look in her eyes.  “Do you not have a place to go for break?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “I haven’t looked into it yet.  I just didn’t realize we were so close.”  Dan whipped out her cell and punched in a number.  “Dan, no.  What are you doing?”

Dan glared at him and held a finger up.  “Matt?  Hey.  So, baby Stiles doesn’t have a home for Christmas.”  There was a pause where Stiles thought about all the ways he could get out of this situation.  “Yeah?  Perfect.  See you later.”

Dan ended the call and put a heavy hand over Stiles’s chest.  “Unless you give me solid proof that you have someplace to go, you’re coming with me and Matt to his family.  I am _not_ having a repeat of last year.”

“I’ll make my own plans,” he told her. 

Dan simply pressed against his chest the way she might when scolding him during a game.  “I’m telling everyone that you don’t have a place to go, Stilinski.  We are not going to let you spend your break doing something stupid.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and slipped inside his dorm before she could make anymore threats.  Granted, threats about making sure he was housed and safe really weren’t too bad, but Stiles didn’t like the idea that things were out of his control.

By dinner, Isaac was slipping into the seat across from him with a tray of lasagna and a bewildered expression.  “How come you’re not going home for Christmas!?”

Stiles angrily set down his cup of soda and threw his hands up.  Of course Dan made good on her promise to tell everyone.  “Because I can’t, Isaac.”

“But, but,” he sputtered.  “But _why_?”

Stiles looked around him.  It didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention, but still.  “It’s related to those rumors, okay?  I just can’t.”

Isaac frowned, fingers twitching against his tray.  If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d be worried that Isaac was losing control.  “Derek and Cora found a place,” he said.  “You can stay with us.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Isaac.”

“Don’t be such a stubborn jackass.  You don’t have a place to go.  We’re not strangers, Stiles.  We know better than anyone else what kind of poison Beacon Hills is.  You should come stay with us.”

Stiles stared down at his half-finished tray of chicken parmesan.  He had tried calling Scott earlier that day but hadn’t managed to reach him.  Lydia was flying out to London.  Apparently Jackson reached out to her and they wanted to try and repair their friendship.  Lydia also wanted to see London.  And shop on Jackson’s dime if she can swing it.

But the rest of the pack was back in Beacon Hills, where he couldn’t go.  Scott probably already had plans.  They hadn’t talked so much this semester, both of them too busy with school and exy to find time in their off hours that matched up for phone calls.  They texted, but that could only cover so much for friends who used to live in each other’s back pockets. 

“You should ask the Hales first.  I’m not just going to jump in on your holiday,” Stiles said, even though it did sound a lot better than being stuck with Dan and Matt being all lovey dovey. 

Isaac snorted.  “No need.  You really so dense you don’t get how much Derek cares for you?”

Stiles felt his stomach drop out.  “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Isaac protested.  “It’s true!”

“Because he fucked off and I’m not ready to forgive him yet, okay?” Stiles snapped.  “And it’s really hard to hold a grudge against that man.”

Isaac rolled his eyes and stood, grabbing his tray.  “Grow the fuck up, Stiles.”

Stiles watched Isaac find a new seat to eat his dinner.  Stiles wasn’t so sure why he protested so hard, why he didn’t want any handouts.  Not from Dan or Matt, not from Isaac.  He was so used to going it alone, or being the person others relied on.  He didn’t like the idea of giving in, of needing help, of letting go and finally moving forward.  It felt too much like defeat.  He didn’t want to give this up.

Stiles ate the rest of his dinner in an angry silence.  When they met up that night for Kira’s practice, they didn’t talk about it.  Kira had to go back to the desert over the holidays.  She was going to be judged.  That was more important than their petty fight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays and all that jazz! i can't believe it's been a whole month since my last update, but life ya know? also i wrote two short fics for a secret santa give away. but yeah. thank you for your patience! 
> 
> I feel like I had a lot to say here but I just flat out forgot it. Meh. Well, I love you all. Hope everyone is getting through the holidays just fine. The next chapter should be a doozy, maybe. Idk. 100% a Derek Stiles interaction and a lot of Kira planned :D


	13. already there

Stiles watched the city fly by through the window of the Camaro.  They hadn’t really patched things up between them, but after barely wining their last game of the year Stiles was approached by Andrew on the whole “where are you going for Christmas” deal and that was the last straw.  Scott was going to Mexico with Melissa to visit family that still lived there and Stiles had given in to spend his break with the Hale pack. 

Derek had bought a house just past Columbia.  The ride wasn’t much longer than the few trips he’s taken to Eden’s Twilight, but he still wasn’t really speaking with Isaac. 

It’s not that he even really had a problem with Isaac, or that Isaac had him come over.  The issue was that Stiles missed his dad and he couldn’t see him.  The Sheriff of Beacon Hills couldn’t take a vacation around the holidays and Stiles couldn’t go back to Beacon Hills.  It was that simple.  It sucked.

Isaac pulled up to a simple two story in a nice neighborhood.  There were simple white Christmas lights strung up on the roof and the light behind the curtains looked warm and inviting.  The car came to a stop and his heart felt like it was hiding in his throat. 

“You ready?” Isaac asked as he switched off the engine.

It didn’t really matter at this point.  He was here.

X

Kira stepped through the security at LaGuardia to head towards baggage claim when she spotted her parents waiting for her.  She pulled her lips in, a nervous habit.  Her mom had those stern eyes, but something about her betrayed Noshiko’s fears.  Kira turned her eyes to her dad. 

“You didn’t have to pick me up.  I could have taken the subway,” she said, readjusting her backpack. 

Her dad wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight.  “Your mother and I wanted to see you right away,” he told her. 

“Thanks, Dad,” she smiled hugging back.  When they let go, Kira didn’t spare a glance her mother’s way before hoofing it to baggage claim.  They might only have a week and a half with their daughter, depending on the Sister’s decision, and that was all her mother’s fault.

X

Stiles sat awkwardly in the living room with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands.  Derek and Isaac sat on the couch, talking about the past semester and what the playoffs look like when they go back to school.  They were giving him space while still keeping him in the area.  Smart.  Stiles felt like he was about the shake out of his skin. 

He blinked away the sudden surge of emotion and looked outside.  The curtains had been tucked back and he could see the stretch of the neighborhood, all lit up for the holidays.  Two whole weeks with the Hales.  Stiles set down his mug and stood up.

“Stiles?” Derek asked.

“I’m going to bed,” he said softly.  He nearly crashed into Cora who was walking out of the kitchen. 

“Oh!  Stiles.  I was going to order pizza.  What do you want?”

Stiles shook his head.  “Not hungry.”

He felt all their eyes on him as he made his way down the hall.  In the comfort of his borrowed room, he was glad he didn’t have their hearing.  He didn’t want to know what they were whispering about him right now.

X

Kira stared out at the city from their apartment in Midtown.  Even with tenure, a professor at NYU wouldn’t be able to afford this place.  The only reason they had so much money was because Noshiko Yukimura had been cultivating it for centuries.  Everything felt tainted by her now that Kira knew the truth about her family.

Kira would have to learn about it eventually.  You can’t hide from your child that they’re a type of fox demon.  It doesn’t make any sense.  She couldn’t understand why her mother waited until Kira was caught up in such a dark fight.  Kira lost friends because she didn’t know what she was up against, because her mother didn’t tell her before returning to Beacon Hills to clean up a mess she created during World War Two.  Kira was left to figure everything out by herself while being fought at every turn.  She was alone.  Always alone when her mom could have _helped her_.  If her mom had just _taught her_ , just had her grow up knowing about being kitsune, just not waited until it was so late Kira wouldn’t have been so afraid all the time.  Wouldn’t have needed the Skin Walkers to help her. 

The light bulb in the lamp next to her flickered and surged brighter for a moment.  Kira closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  She could control this.  She was confident about that.  She was afraid, but only of the Skin Walkers.  Not of herself.

She hoped that would be enough. 

“Kira, please talk to me,” Noshiko said softly. 

Kira pushed away from the window and headed to her room.

X

Stiles was raiding the kitchen for breakfast.  Christmas was tomorrow and the werewolves had stalked up in preparation, so he had a lot of options.  Stiles hadn’t managed to fall asleep until it was almost four, and then woke up at seven.  He’d done the same all the nights he’d stayed with the Hales so far.  It took him a while to feel comfortable in a new sleeping space.  He barely slept at the Fox Tower and he’d been staying there for half a year.  This all came to Stiles being hungry and tired and apparently easily snuck up on.

“Hey.”

Stiles jumped, nearly dropping the bagel he was pulling out of its bag.  He turned to face Derek with a glare.  “Did I ever tell you that you should wear a bell?”

Derek snorted.  “Probably.”

“You have a coffee pot around here?” Stiles asked, looking around. 

“No.  Sorry.  Caffeine doesn’t affect us so I never got into drinking it,” Derek admitted.  “There’s a Starbucks not far from here.”

Stiles thought about waving him off but he was barely standing.  “Yeah, okay,” Stiles said, shoving the bagel in his mouth.  “Lead the way.”

By _not far away_ Derek meant literally a block and a half.  They walked through the crisp air in silence.  It was surprisingly comfortable to wake up with the morning weather and Derek silently by his side. 

Even in his sleepy state, Stiles couldn’t help but notice Derek.  He was so angry the first time Derek showed up at Palmetto.  Stiles had needed to get away, he could barely stand to look at Derek then.  Then the last time, Stiles was drunk.  It wasn’t that much of a surprise he missed it.

They didn’t speak until Stiles had a cup of coffee in his hands and he was stepping outside the Starbucks feeling a lot more awake. 

“When did you get it back?” Stiles asked, looking around the neighborhood.

“Get what?” Derek frowned.

Stiles tapped at his cup.  “Your red eyes.”  It was subtle, but Derek was broader than Stiles had last seen him in Beacon Hills.  He was relaxed and comfortable in his body in a way he wasn’t the last time he was an alpha, so he didn’t look quite the same, but it was there. 

Derek ducked his head.  “After Cora joined me and Isaac.  We almost stayed with her pack.  They were good people.  It was actually Cora who suggested otherwise.  She was ready to move on, make a fresh start.  Her pack was great, but every family has their issues, you know?  You’d have to talk to her to figure out more about it.  But the, uh, the eyes came when she joined me.  I don’t really get it, but it was almost like all that power I used to heal her, she was well enough to give back.”

Stiles nodded.  He supposed that made sense, as much as anything did.  There weren’t many rules that held true, even ones Deaton thought couldn’t be broken.  Anything could happen, as long as you made it your game. 

“No urge to bite teenagers this time around?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.  “I was already more stable going in.  We would be better as a larger pack, but this is fine.  We manage.”

Stiles hummed into his coffee.  “You think you made the right choice?”

There was a long stretch of silence.  Derek looked skyward and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.  A flock of birds were swooping through the air.  “I’m not sure whether or not we’d be better off with Cora’s old pack,” Derek said, watching the birds.  “But I am positive it was best for us that I gave Cora the decision.  Isaac and I were already uprooted.  It was her choice if she should be transplanted.  I think we’re best off for no one being forced into the situation.”

They were silent for some time more, almost at the house again. 

“Do you regret the choice you made?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles startled, eyes wide as he looked up at Derek.  “What?” he whispered.

Derek shrugged, eyes sad as he looked Stiles over.  “I don’t know what happened that you can’t go home, but I can put two and two together.  Do you think it would have been better if you had done something else?”

There was a sudden pressure building up behind Stiles’s breastbone.  His throat felt thick and his skin taunt.  A wave was pulling him under.  A bit of coffee splashed over the sip hole of the lid, hot against his skin.  He was shaking.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, reaching out but not quite touching.

Stiles gulped down the wave of emotions that came from realizing he wasn’t hiding as well as he thought he was.  “Something had to be done,” he said with finality in his voice.  “It wasn’t the only choice, but,” he lost the breath.

“Stiles!” Derek’s hand was grounding, a heavy weight on his shoulder. “Stiles, you’re fine.  You’re safe.  I don’t know what to do.  Stiles.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and gulped in a too deep breath of air, stinging his lungs.  He let it out in a controlled stream, his chest too tight.  He could will this away.  He’d done it before.

“Sorry,” Stiles croaked out, his voice raw from the effort.  “Sorry, I just.”  He blinked away his tears.  “Panic attack.”  Stiles swallowed the last of the mishap down and took a shaky sip of his coffee.  It was less comforting than it had been minutes before.  He huffed out a shrill laugh.  “That hasn’t happened to me in a while.”  Stiles ran his fingers through his hair.  He needed a haircut, he thought idly.  It was curling past his ears and getting really annoying. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, hand still resting on Stiles’s shoulder.  “Speaking as someone who had very unhealthy coping habits for a long time, you’re not dealing with whatever happened well.”

Stiles couldn’t help the pinprick of tears at the corner of his eyes and wiped his sleeve against his nose.  “Yeah,” he admitted, “that’s probably true.”

Derek squeezed Stiles’s shoulder.  “So, are you going to let me help?”

Stiles looked away with a shrug, a gentle way to knock Derek’s hand from his shoulder.  “Don’t want to ruin your holidays,” he tried to joke.

“Stiles,” Derek began, but Stiles waved him off.

“Not yet, Derek.  Okay?”

“It doesn’t have to be us,” Derek offered.  “I’ve found a therapist here that I like.  He could help you, too.”

Stiles shook his head.  “Just, let me think about it.”  He turned to head for the house, leaving Derek to follow.

X

Kira made it through Christmas without forgiving her mother, but it was harder the longer they were together.  She was scared and alone and just wanted her mom, but how can she reach out to someone who placed a dynasty on her shoulders without any warning and terrible consequences. 

Her parents had gotten her a lot of presents, as if they were trying to prove to themselves she’d still be here to enjoy them in a few days’ time.  Kira wanted to believe she’d pass the Sisters’ test, but she also knew these were not people she should have made a contract with to begin with.  There were no guarantees going into this meeting.

Kira brought her practice sword down, stepping backwards with her 100th swing.  Stiles had made her think about her twin soul in a different way.  The kitsune brought with it history.  It told her how to move in battle because it already knew how to handle a sword.  That was why she picked it up so quickly.

So, she went back to the basics.  Despite her natural mastery of the art, Kira wanted to make sure she knew the how and why behind all her movements.  Training burned her arms, doing the standard ‘hundreds’, and then some.  She was drenched in sweat and ready to move onto the next exercise.  She started this routine not long after Stiles and Isaac started taking her to midnight practices.  It helped.

Kira had control now.  Movement with the sword wouldn’t be a blind trust of mystical instinct.  It would come from knowledge that she knew the repercussions of her actions, could calculate her own strength versus her opponents, knew where her sword was going, and instinct came from both halves of her spirit.

There was a knock on her door.  Kira had pushed all her furniture to the edges of the room to make space for her training since they didn’t have a backyard in the New York apartment.  Her father opened the door before Kira could respond. 

“You're using your sword,” he said, surprised.  It was just a wooden one, but she had learned her lesson about picking up a weapon before she was ready when she was last in Beacon Hills.

Kira set the wooden sword down and grabbed a towel.  “I can’t be afraid of it,” she told her dad simply.  “It would be the same as being afraid of myself.  I can’t do that.”

Her dad nodded.  He stood in the doorway for a moment, stoic, eyes gleaming with hidden emotion.  Then he raced forward and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

“I believe in you,” he whispered. 

“Then why does this feel like a goodbye?” Kira whispered, fighting back tears, hugging him back tightly.  She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to show weakness, but the thought of leaving her father without her hurt so much. 

“I will always worry about you,” her dad said.  “Whether it’s going off to college or dating boys or getting mixed in with the supernatural.  You’re my little girl.  Every time you’re out of my sights is a goodbye.”

“I don’t want to go,” Kira hiccupped into her father’s shoulder. 

He held her tighter.  “I believe in you,” he repeated. 

Kira thought of her mother.  She didn’t want to leave her either.  She didn’t want to be so angry with her.  But her mom had lived a hundred lifetimes.  She was used to seeing her loved ones die as she lived on, never really aging.  Her mom would be fine.

“You’re my daughter,” her dad said, “and nothing will ever change how fiercely I want to protect you.”

“I love you, Dad,” Kira said, hoping it didn’t sound like giving up.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you all packed?” he asked.

Kira nodded. 

“Okay.”  Her father kissed her forehead.  “We’ll leave in twenty.”

X

Stiles lived through Christmas in a haze, only broken out by the brief call to his dad and the presents he wasn’t expecting from the pack.  He stared at the grimoire Derek had found and the new pair of sneakers Isaac must have noticed he needed and the gag card Cora picked out. 

He hated this feeling of having nothing to do.  Stiles kept himself busy at college.  More than busy.  It kept his minds off things.  This haze had a way of bringing him back to Beacon Hills.  It clutched at his chest, like there was something dark and wrong waiting for him just around the corner.  He needed something to do.  And Derek was right, he needed someone to understand.

He looked at the presents again and tried to shake off the weight of still inertia. 

X

When Kira stepped off the airplane, desert air already crawled under her skin.  By the time they reached the spot of connection, it had grown into a coffin of rock and sand.  Kira stepped out of the rental car, her parents just behind her.  She gave her dad a long hug goodbye.  Her mom stood by the driver’s door, unmoving. 

Kira took a deep breath and swallowed her pride.  She didn’t want any regrets going into this.  Kira took the steps towards her mother and hugged her tightly.  “Three days,” Kira whispered.  “You’ll see me in three days.  And then you can teach me everything about being a kitsune, properly.”

A tear fell onto Kira’s chin.  She realized her mother was crying.

“I love you, Kira.”

Further off, the ground began to shift and open. 

“I love you, too.”

X

Stiles sat down at the dining room table with Isaac, Cora, and Derek.  It was time.  Stiles hadn’t talked about what happened in Beacon Hills with anyone.  Not his dad, who helped ship him off.  Not Malia, who he felt strange being close to now that they were no longer dating.  Not Lydia or Scott, who were coping in their own ways.  Not anyone who knew.

So, he had to explain.

“I don’t know how much Chris told you about the Dread Doctors and the chimeras,” Stiles started with.  “The beast that was Allison’s ancestor.”  He combed his fingers through his hair and latched on, leaning his elbows against the table.  The woodgrain had a transfixing pattern.  “There were a lot of bodies.  So much death around the nemeton.  It just.”  Stiles took in a deep breath and kept his eyes fixed on the table.  “We’d been feeding the town sacrifices for years.  And after Jennifer did all that work to wake it up, and the nogitsune got loose, after, it just.”  He took another deep breath.  “The trees were starting to die,” Stiles said.  “People were in a haze.  It was as if the whole town was coming to a standstill.”

“I don’t get it,” Isaac said. 

The voice was distant to his ears.  He just had to tell his story.

“It’s like we were all dying,” Stiles said.  “I still don’t know what was happening, not really.”  Stiles took his hands out of his hair and covered his eyes with them.  “But we could all feel it.  It’s like suffocating slowly.  A nemeton isn’t supposed to be a call for evil.  It’s often filled with supernatural, but it’s not a bad thing.  They were holy grounds to the old druids.  We tainted that.  All of us.”

A weight settled gently between Stiles’s shoulder blades.  The comforting hand stayed there until Stiles could speak again, slowly sliding down his back as it drew away.  “It was already starting to turn by the time Jennifer made her contract, but when we cheated it out of a few sacrifices, that was when the nemton’s power was really twisted because we made it vulnerable to the nogitsune.”

They hadn’t realized what was going on for a while.  It was easy to miss a slow death.  But then Stiles started having too similar nightmares.  He couldn’t read, stopped being able to tell if he was awake or not.  The same effects that took hold right after the ice bath.  Scott was experiencing something similar.  They were eventually able to tie it back to the unfinished five-fold knot thanks to Lydia. 

After mountains of research, they came down to three options. 

First, continue with the sacrificial rites on a small scale.  These would be temporary solutions, needing to be repeated before the roots turned dark and attracted malevolent creatures.  Upside: they could avoid human bloodshed.  Perhaps still needed dead animals, but pigs blood from the butcher should work.  Downside: the frequency and precision with which the rituals needed to be performed would mean there would always need to be two druids in Beacon Hills, at minimum. 

Second, kill the original sacrifices.  This would be a permanent solution.  Upside: the town could heal.  Downside: killing the Sheriff and Melissa, and there might be a chance it wouldn’t even work since the third member of their category’s substitute had died on Beacon Hills soil.  Not worth it in any aspect.

Third, kill the original substitutes.  This would also be a permanent solution.  With Allison gone, the cheated knot was started, but never finished.  It left a fray in the nemeton that the earth was trying to close.

The obvious solution would be option number one, but the drain in resources would be great and there was no guarantee of the town’s protection in future generations.  It also meant Stiles would never be able to leave Beacon Hills.  Not for college, not for job or travel.  He would be needed, and he wouldn’t trust anyone else in his place. 

They had already started with the weekly rituals when something new came to town.  It wasn’t evil, per say, it didn’t drop bodies the way past creatures had.  “It was like there was shade over the entire town.  A creeping sense of terror.  You could see it in the eyes of everyone you passed.  My nightmares were only just stopping when it came.  It was the same slow death the nemeton had been feeding us, but worse.”

Stiles had stopped sleeping again.  Lydia kept finding herself at the root cellar.  Scott and the betas were at a hair trigger with their control. 

The small rituals were keeping the nemeton’s darkness from growing and reaching out, but it hadn’t stopped what was already there. 

“What was it?” Cora asked.

Stiles hiccupped from the force of trying to hold back a sob.  “It was me.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a nice wholesome chapter about exy
> 
> remember when this was a dumb sports AU crossover fic inspired by the type of snark the foxes and Stiles would have with each other? ha hahaha hahahah HAHAHHAHAHAHHAAH HA 
> 
> sorry, i wrote half of this on a plane and i'm so tired rn. happy new years everyone!


	14. rituals

Everyone stared when Neil’s phone buzzed.  He used it more often now, but it was still rare.  And while it was likely just Matt or Dan, the rest of them still had reason to be worried.  Neil had a penchant for not telling them important things.  So, when he read the text and told Andrew he was taking the car, Andrew immediately stole the phone from Neil’s hands.

Andrew glared at Neil.  “I’m driving.” 

“What is it?” Nicky asked.  Andrew and Neil just headed out the door without another word.  “Guys!?”

Kevin, undisturbed, flipped the channel over to ESPN and poured himself some whiskey.

X

Lydia sat on Stiles’s bed, prim and proper and terrified.  “Do you know yet?” she asked softly.  Her eyes were distant and Stiles knew she was listening into to a whispered conversation of the dead. 

Stiles spun around in his computer chair to look back outside.  The half-moon shining through his window was mocking him.  A full month of sacrificial rituals.  Did he know yet?  Yeah.  He figured it out.  As he got better, the town got worse.  Nothing was happening, no one was dying.  And yet.  They could all feel it.  All of Beacon Hills was being stripped of its will to live.  They’ll become a ghost town with dead earth where nothing can grow. 

“Do you remember how you got here, Lydia?”

She frowned and shook her head. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Scott protested from the doorway. 

Stiles scoffed.  “Lydia magically finds herself one of two places nowadays.  The nemeton, or right next to me.”

He was special because of his spark, because he was a half-taken sacrifice, because there was a darkness that had cold hands around his heart.  Now every time he made a sacrifice to help keep the nemeton from furthering its reach, it ate at his spark to heal itself and shared his darkness with everyone around him. 

“I’m a human conductor, Scott.  I’m getting better, you’re getting better, the rest of the town is getting worse.  Things were hazy before, slow and confusing.  Things are just getting darker and we’re the only ones who can see it.”

“Well what are we supposed to do about it?” Scott demanded, frustration getting the best of him. 

“Finish the knot?” Lydia suggested loftily, eyes still distant.  She blinked a few times and came back to the room.  “Don’t do that.”

Stiles ran a hand over his eyes.  “You’re not wrong though.”

“Stiles,” she warned.

“I mean,” he said shaking his head.  “There’s me and Deaton.  We’re the only ones who can do the ritual, but its taking too much out of him.  I think the only reason I can do it so often is because I’m one of the sacrifices.”

Lydia nodded.  Scott came farther into the room and sat down next to her.  “But you’re making it worse,” he pointed out.

“Yes, thank you.  I’m aware of that,” Stiles ground out.  “But we’re going to have to have a hard time finding another druid to come in to help.  There’s…” he sighed.  “There may be a way to trick the nemeton a second time.”  He looked over to Scott.  “But I can’t ask that of you.  Of either of you”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s dangerous, Scott.  There may be a way but it’s dangerous, more dangerous than the ice baths and we technically died then.  I would attempt some fuckery magic that I’m piecemealing together before doing a massive cleansing ritual.  I won’t risk it.”

“We have to do everything we can!” Scott yelled. 

“You don’t think I don’t fucking know that, Scott!  I’m looking into it!”

“The nemeton,” Lydia muttered.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“The nemeton.  I always show up at the nemeton and next to you.  You’re a conductor.  You’re… connected.”

Stiles searched her eyes that were struggling to stay in the present.  There was something there, a puzzle in the air.  “No,” he whispered, putting it together.  “We’re not.  If it were that simple, it would be Scott, too.  But we could be.”

“What does that mean?” Scott asked.

“Lydia’s appearances.  It was a clue about what was happening, it was a clue about what should happen.  If I perform a binding ritual between me and the nemeton, I would become a part of it.  It wouldn’t be eating my spark, we’d be sharing the magic.  And.  And the darkness it gave me in the first place… if we’re bound I should be able to stop it from using me as a conductor.”

Stiles looked up at both of them.  “I think I can do this.”

“What does that mean for you?” Scott asked, worried.

Stiles bit as his thumbnail.  “Not much, really.  I already wasn’t planning to leave since the chances of another druid coming to town were slim to none.”

Scott narrowed his eyes.  “What aren’t you telling us?”

Lydia sighed and stood up, brushing wrinkles out of her skirt.  “It wouldn’t just be a plan to never leave.  He wouldn’t be able to.  The hermit of Beacon Hills, the keeper of the nemeton.”

X

The address Stiles sent in his S.O.S. wasn’t that far away, but it still gave them enough time to sit in uncomfortable silence.  Long enough for the nagging feeling at the back of Neil’s mind to worm its way past his very poor filters. 

“Why do you like him?” Neil asked.

Andrew glanced over from behind the wheel.  “I don’t like him.”

“Like you don’t like me?”

“No.  I hate you.”

Neil clenched his jaw and tried to keep his temper in check.  “You know what I mean, Andrew.”

“I really don’t.  Which isn’t surprising.  You normally say dumb shit.”

Neil knew that Aaron was only trying to get under his skin when he said things like Andrew was trading Neil in for a younger model, but there was still evidence to support that.  “Everyone says he’s just like me.”

“Everyone’s a fucking idiot,” Andrew assured him.  “Including you.”

“Then why are you so protective of him?” Neil asked.  “You haven’t made any promises with him.  You don’t have a reason to keep him safe.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone!” Neil snapped.  Andrew didn’t say anything to that.  “Out of all the freshmen, it’s Stiles you’ve fixated on.  Kira’s past is just as mysterious.  Ash is the one who went to juvie.  Isaac’s moved around almost as often as I have since entering foster care.  So why Stiles?”

Andrew tightened his grip around the steering wheel.  “The night we found him in Coach’s office.”

Neil waited it out.  Andrew would speak eventually.

“He didn’t pick a fight because it wasn’t worth it.  But if it came down to it, he’d probably win.”

“What?” Neil asked.  Stiles didn’t seem like a fighter.  Of all the weird history to sort through coming out of Beacon Hills, if he was mixed up in it Neil hadn’t counted on him going head to head with a serial killer.

“He’s desperate.”

“What does that have to do with protecting him?” Neil asked.

“You never know how a desperate person will act.  It’s not about protecting him.  It’s making sure he’s on my side.”  Andrew pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine.  He turned in his seat to face Neil.  “Now stop acting like a fucking moron.  Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”  Andrew grabbed at Neil’s jacket and pulled him close.

X

“We have until the next new moon to convince Stiles to do the other ritual,” Scott told the Sheriff.  “I don’t want him to be stuck here, fighting for control of that stupid _tree stump_ for the rest of his life.”

The Sheriff was still wide eyed and slack jawed from all the information Scott had given him.  He swallowed dryly.  He looked down at the note their receptionist had slipped him earlier.  A college recruiter had called while he was out on patrol.

“I may have something.”

The Sheriff would call this Wymack person back.  He’d beg if he’d have to.  Stiles needed to get out of here.

X

Stiles looked shaken up when he climbed into the back to the Maserati.  “What happened?” Neil asked as Andrew peeled out of the Piggly Wiggly. 

“I told them what happened.  Back in Spring.”

The mysterious Spring.  There were no clues in the newspapers as to what happened, but there were obviously rumors.  That clique at the banquet seemed to know all about it.  Or at least thought they did.

“And they kicked you out?” Neil asked.

Stiles shook his head, holding his back tight to his chest.  “No.”

“Then why did we come get you?” Andrew asked.

Stiles clamped up, clearly unwilling to share.  He was terrified.  He was desperate.  Andrew was right.  And now Stiles was on their side, whether he meant to be or not. 

X

Wymack left Stiles with a lot of questions.  He seemed pretty pushy about getting an answer by the morning, almost as if he knew about Stiles’s personal timeline.  All the research Stiles did showed that, while riddled with crazy occurrences, Wymack and the Foxes weren’t supernaturally inclined. 

“I think you should take it,” his dad said, stepping into his room.  “It’s a free education, Stiles.  You’d be far away from this mess.”

Stiles swiveled back and forth in his chair, staring at his computer screen.  “I can’t just abandoned the town, dad.”

“I’m not asking you to,” his dad sighed, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.  “I’m asking you to think about your future.  What do you _want_ to do.”

“I have a responsibility-” “No.  _I_ have a responsibility.  I’m an elected official.  I serve this town.  I protect this town.  You’re a high school student.” 

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.  “What if I want to stay, dad?  What if I want to live in Beacon Hills and be just like you?”

The Sheriff’s heart sank and soared at the same time.  “I love you, kid.  You know that.  And if you want to stay here, that’s fine.  But not like that.  Not as a prison.”

Stiles’s lip quivered.  They had found a way to beat it, though.  They would finally _win_.  There’s no guarantee with the other way.  There was no guarantee about anything. 

X

Nicky was trying to pull together something suitable for Stiles to wear at Eden’s Twilight for the New Year’s party tomorrow, making too much noise and generally bothering everybody.  Even though Stiles clearly wasn’t interested, he seemed content to let Nicky drag him about.

Neil looked around the group of them.  Andrew stood right next to him, their shoulders brushing.  They had been sleeping in the same bed all week.  The queen had enough space to sleep safely without worry of bumping him in his sleep, but it still was a huge step forward.  Neil leaned into the empty space between them.  Andrew didn’t react to the new weight.  Neil fought a smile.

“To think this time last year you were detoxing and I was staying with the Ravens.”

Andrew glared.   That’s when the doorbell rang. 

X

“I can’t ask this of you,” Stiles protested, gathering his things.  He’d made up his mind.  He was going to be a hermit.

“You signed on with Palmetto State, Stiles.  You can’t go unless you let me help you,” Lydia snapped. 

“That was a mistake.”  Stiles zipped up his backpack with enough force he almost broke the plastic teeth.  “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Because you want to leave, Stiles!” Lydia yelled, her voice getting dangerously close to banshee territory.  “You don’t _want_ to stay here.  You just feel like you should.  You should leave.  We all should leave!”

“You wouldn’t be able to come back!” Stiles whipped around, eyes on the verge of tears.  “Okay?  I figured out the ritual.  I put all the pieces together.  It’s not just a vague concept anymore.  If I went through with it.  If I make it so I won’t be stuck in this hellmouth for the rest of my life, we won’t be able to come back.  Not me, not Scott, not you.  We’d be giving up Beacon Hills until the magic finally settles and that could take anywhere from few years or our entire lives.”

Lydia stood her ground, blocking his way out of the vet clinic.  “I know.”

“What?” he hadn’t discussed the ritual with her, with anyone.

“I hear things, Stiles.  I know.  I know what we’d be giving up.  Scott’s saying goodbye to Hayden and Liam right now.  They’re going to join Satomi’s pack.  Malia hasn’t decided what she wants to do yet.”

Stiles felt as if the floor had disappeared. 

“Don’t you dare have a panic attack right now,” Lydia warned. 

Stiles took in a deep, shuddering breath.  He closed his eyes to still himself.  “I can’t ask that of you,” Stiles said weakly.

“You’re not asking anything of us that we don’t want to give,” Lydia said.  “The alternative is something _we_ can’t ask of _you_.”

He opened his eyes again.  Lydia smiled up at him with sad eyes, present and clear. 

“You’re going to Palmetto State.  You’re going to play exy.  You’re going to make new friends and relearn what it means to be a person and not a martyr.  And then one day, we’ll come home.”

Stiles wiped his sleeve under his nose.  “Yeah,” he croaked out.  “Yeah, okay.”

X

Andrew stared down Isaac’s foster brother.  He was tall and built like a linebacker, but Andrew never let size intimidate him.  Isaac obviously saw Derek Hale and his sister as good family, but Stiles had gone home with them and was now in a post panic attack haze in the living room. 

“How’d you find us?” Andrew asked, not wanting to directly indicate that Stiles was there.

“Stiles is pretty easy to track,” Derek said absently, trying to look past Andrew.  The main hall of the house curved, so he wouldn’t be able to see much despite having a clear view over Andrew’s head. 

“You’re not coming into my house,” Andrew said.

Derek finally looked down at him.  His eyes roamed over Andrew and he smirked.  Despite the menacing gaze that often scared people away from Andrew, he was used to being underestimated due to his small stature. 

“I get why Stiles likes you,” Derek said, surprising Andrew.  “I think he’s close enough he can hear me, but just in case, can you tell him that we’re all fine.  I understand if he needs time.”    

The man then stepped away and back to Isaac’s car that was parked on the curb.  Andrew shut the door and bolted it.  When he headed back to the others, they were all carefully arranged, no doubt all having been eavesdropping on the short conversation.

They gave up the pretense pretty quickly when Nicky buckled.  “Stiles _likes_ you?  I honestly don’t know how that’s possible.”

Stiles, from his new spot in the kitchen, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  “I don’t like him.  But I don’t hate him.  Which is good.  When I have a guttural hatred of someone, they’re usually a serial killer.”

Nicky paused with a chip halfway to his mouth. 

Stiles shrugged.  “Or Scott’s dad, but that guy’s just an alcoholic dick.” 

Andrew tried his best to ignore that exchange.  He didn’t care about Stiles right now.  He didn’t even want to try and decode Derek’s message or figure out why Stiles, the fighter, ran away.  Andrew was already bored by that.  Stiles was on his side if things ever turned sour.  That’s all he needed to know for now.  

Andrew walked back over to Neil, who still seemed confused and upset.  Jealousy really wasn’t a good look on him.  Neil was his best when he was sure of himself.  When he was playing exy, or calling out Riko on camera, or finally sticking it to Jack during practice.  Neil was his best when he said “yes, always, forever” without hesitation when Andrew asked him for an answer.  If Neil wasn’t sure about them, then Andrew was right all along.  Neil was just a pipe dream.

He took Neil’s hand and led him back to their bedroom.  “Yes or no?” he asked once the door was closed.  Because this was one thing Andrew wanted to be wrong about.

Neil’s yes sounded almost before the question was finished.

X

Stiles and Scott positioned themselves on the outer edge of the giant tree stump.  Lydia stood between them, hand on each shoulder.  They had to pick someone.  Someone who died in Beacon Hills.  Someone who died violently.  Someone whose death they were connected to. 

Stiles and Scott were substitute deaths back when Jennifer was going to kill their parents.  They were substitutes and yet they lived.  To finish the knot, they either had to die, like Allison, or find a second substitute.  Obviously, Scott and Stiles weren’t going to kill someone just to save themselves.  But with Lydia, they didn’t have to.

Scott chose Sebastian, the Beast who came back thanks to the work of the Dread Doctors.  A death that he threw the final blow for, even if it was just a sword into the heart of a cloud of smoke.  A death connected to Allison. 

Stiles chose Donovan. 

When Lydia called up these deaths, Stiles felt it all.  He felt every moment of that night that Donovan first died.  He lived it all.  Through Lydia, he lived it all from Donovan’s eyes.  When the beam fell from the scaffolding in the library and pierced Donovan’s heart, Stiles came to, coughing up blood onto the petrified wood.  His hands were covered with splinters where he gripped too hard.  Or perhaps he was clawing at the remains of the tree.

Beside him Scott was writing.

Lydia fainted.

He feels strong arms, familiar arms, wrap around him and pull him away from the nemeton.  He doesn’t have the strength to do anything more than let himself be dragged.  Malia sets him down at the tree line, and rests his head on her lap.  He watches Hayden carry Lydia and Liam help Scott. 

Deaton and Morell begin the cleansing ritual.  It will pull the cluster of ley lines apart, in sense.  Detangle them.  Pull the tree up by the roots.  Stiles was able to make it to his feet in time to watch them finish.  The stump fell into the hollow root cellar below, crumbling into nothing the further it fell.

He stared at it until Scott and Lydia were able to join him.  

“We’ll start to feel the urge to leave.  Then we won’t be able to come back.  Not until a new tree grows.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, oops, here we go! I had to go back and collect everything i mentioned already about what happened in the spring to try and have this make any kind of sense. i feel like a still fudged a few things. makes it more authentic to the show then ahhahahahaha
> 
> also, wow, this was way longer than expected. I guess i'll get to Kira in the next chapter. 
> 
> life's been crazy. I'm in the middle of filming my webseries, which is going really well, but I put all my money into it and I mean that quite literally, so I'm ubering as much as I can so I can pay rent. i'm actually super nervous about that. so, apologizes in advance if it takes a while to churn out the next chapter. i know you all reassure me that real life responsibilities are more important, but i cannot stress enough how much you all mean to me and that when i don't write often enough i start to feel shitty anyway, so really fan fiction is self care hahahahah
> 
> okay, whatever. here are some more words. i'm tired. hope you like this weird ass story. i'll see you in the future.


	15. and yet

School didn’t start for another week, but they were heading back early for practice.  Neil looked into the rearview mirror back at Stiles.  He was hungover, which wasn’t surprising.  He had pretty much gotten drunk and stayed drunk after Isaac’s brother left, and that was four days ago.

In the months that they knew Stiles, it became increasingly obvious that his secrets were stranger than they could imagine.  The things the Foxes were known for were things like drug abuse, bad parents, abusive foster families, emotional trauma.  Neil was the oddest, last year.  But eventually even the general public knew about his father and why he was on the run.  Neil doubted Stiles’s secrets would be ever found out, like Neil and Kevin’s ties to the Yakuza. 

That’s the only reason he can imagine this sort of reaction to having told someone about it.  Neil himself was great at jumping to the worst conclusions and freaking out.  Generally because the worst was likely to happen. 

Neil thought back to New Years when Stiles stepped outside at midnight.  Neil found him staring at the moon in the back alley while everyone was cheering.  He looked at Neil and frowned in the same manner he was now.  “It’s not midnight yet back home,” he said.  It sounded ominous, like he was waiting for something to change at the last stroke of the year. 

Stiles kept drumming his thumb against his phone and checking it every five seconds, groaning against the light every time he opened his eyes. 

“Will you cut that out?” Kevin groaned.  Stiles was crammed between him and Nicky, but Kevin seemed to be suffering the worst of Stiles’s fidgeting.  “We’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Stiles shook his head, which caused him to groan.  He checked his phone again, frown growing deeper.  “I haven’t heard back from Kira yet,” he whispered. 

Neil looked over to Andrew then back at Nicky.  He didn’t have a good angle of Kevin sitting directly behind him.  Whatever Stiles was referring to, it didn’t sound good.

“So?” Nicky hedged.  “She’s probably still on a plane right now.”

Stiles sighed and dropped his head.  “She might not be coming back”

Kevin sat up straighter in an outrage.  “What does that mean!  She is one of our best freshmen, she’s been improving steadily all year, and we can’t afford to be skimpy on players like we were last year!”

Stiles clapped his hands over his ears.  “Oh my god, not so loud,” he groaned. 

Neil turned around in his seat to get a better look at Stiles.  “Why would Kira not be coming back?” he asked as gently as he could.  He wasn’t sure if he succeeded by the way Stiles flinched.  “Stiles?”

“She had something to do over break, is all,” he said, head between his knees. 

The rest of the ride was tense.  Kevin kept prodding for more information, but Stiles just buried his head and told Kevin he’d puke on his feet if he didn’t shut up. 

“You can stop freaking Kevin out,” Andrew said as they turned up to Fox Tower.  “She’s right there.”

Stiles shot up in his seat, eyes wide and clear despite the almost sickly look to his face.  He leaned in, pushing his head between Neil and Andrew, scanning until he caught sight of a familiar frame pulling a suitcase out of Wymack’s trunk.

“Out,” Stiles muttered, before flinging himself over Kevin to reach the door handle.  “Out.  Out!”

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski!” Kevin yelled.  “We’re not even stopped yet!”

Andrew gunned it to reach the tower.  Stiles nearly got knocked out of the front window when Andrew slammed on the breaks.  Kevin pushed the door open and Stiles scrambled over him to get out of the car.

“Kira!”

They all watched him race over and wrap his arms around her and swing her around.  She looked to be crying. 

“Are they… sleeping with each other?” Kevin asked, confused.

“I thought he was into Derek,” Nicky said. 

They all watched as Kira and Stiles hugged and cried like it was the fucking Notebook.  Neil wasn’t that big of a fan of Dan’s choice of movies.  “Whatever thing Kira had to do,” Neil said, thinking back to the ominous way Stiles stared at the moon on New Years.  He couldn’t finish his thought, but they all understood.  It reminded them too much of how Neil didn’t think he’d ever make it back.  Because he’d be dead by then.

She narrowly escaped something. They’d been all so focused on the mysterious Stiles Stilinski, that they stopped looking at Kira. 

“He talks, but he never says anything,” Andrew said later as they were unpacking. 

“Huh?” Neil asked.

“Stiles.  He talks, but he never says anything.  It’s a distraction.  He twists conversations to where he wants them to go.”

“Yeah.  I know,” Neil said.  They all knew.  It was Stiles’s most annoying trait because even when looking out for it, you often didn’t catch that you never learned what you wanted until much later. 

“But then he sometimes tells us the truth.  Just enough to keep us interested.  He talks, but he never says anything he doesn’t want us to hear.  Because it’s a distraction.  Not from his secrets, but from theirs.” 

X

Stiles waited nervously in his dorm for Isaac.  Jack, the jerk off, had already been in, made his douche comments, and jumped over to Sheena’s room.  Kira fidgeted with the strands of her hair, braiding and rebraiding them as she took in everything Stiles had told her.

“You attacked them?” she asked, confused.

Stiles shrugged and looked out the window.  “I didn’t mean to.  You weren’t the only one with control issues, Kira.”

 “You could have told us,” she frowned.  “You spent all that time helping me and you were – ”

“Fine,” Stiles insisted, again.  “I was fine.  Nothing’s supposed to happen here, remember.  And we beat Beacon Hills.  What I did with the nemeton was dangerous and it left a scar on my spark.  Scott lost his alpha status.  It may have actually helped Lydia, tempering the voices a bit.  We were all affected.  It could have been worse.”

Kira stood up and walked slowly over as if trying not to spook an animal.  Stiles rolled his eyes.  He wasn’t some special snowflake that needed kid gloves.  She placed her hands on his shoulders.  “You experienced massive trauma, Stiles.  I get that.  Isaac gets that.  He’s not going to be mad that you lashed out when you felt scared.”

“I shouldn’t have been, though,” Stiles gritted out.  “That’s the problem.  I had no reason to be afraid.  I chose to tell them what happened.”

“And you were remembering everything while you did.  In my experience, I can talk about the things that happened to me but the moment I actually think about it, it’s like I’m back there.”

Stiles closed his eyes.  Flashes of Donovan’s death kept spiking behind his eyes when he wasn’t prepared for it.  He’d worked on cultivating his magic ever since the Dread Doctors made it painfully clear he needed more in his arsenal than just a baseball bat.  When Lydia pulled that memory to the front of his mind, he’d almost short circuited.  When he told Derek, Cora, and Isaac about it, he instinctively tried to protect himself from a foe that wasn’t there.  He’d knocked them all back.  The sight of Derek unconscious was enough to scare him out of the house and call Neil.

He worked extremely hard to reign in his reactions to flashbacks while explaining it all again to Kira. 

Stiles opened his eyes again and pushed past Kira, needing more space. 

“Did you ever forgive your mom for keeping secrets?” Stiles asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Kira said.  “I’m still mad, but I want to try and fix things.”

Stiles looked down at his hands.  He could see the faint scars from when he held onto the nemeton during the ritual.  “My mom knew,” he said.  “About all of it.  Turns out I’m from a long line of sparks.”

He looked up at Kira.  He didn’t have the luxury of making things right.  His mom was dead an all her secrets with her.  He’d only found out about his heritage when training with Deaton.  His grandfather’s name was in one of his books.  Stiles wanted to be angry with her, for keeping him in the dark.  He supposed she might have been waiting on telling him until he was a bit older.  There’s no planning for a degenerative brain disease.

Stiles wanted to be angry with her for keeping secrets, but truthfully he was angry at her for other reasons.  After finding his grandfather’s name in one of Deaton’s book, he went down a rabbit hole of research about his family. 

The door opened and Isaac rushed in, enveloping Kira in a tight hug. 

“I knew you’d be back,” he whispered. 

Stiles smiled at the sight. 

Isaac pulled back from Kira and turned to Stiles.  “You need to stop being a dumbass.”

Stiles laughed.  “I’ll try.”

X

Kevin looked down at their playbook.  He wasn’t a team captain, so he didn’t really have a say anymore, but having been a coaching assistant his first year with the foxes meant he’d never truly leave that role.  The Trojan’s weren’t going to go easy on them this year, skimming down their roster until it matched the Foxes.  Still, he was excited to fly out tomorrow.

It was their third game of the playoffs and their team was doing okay.  They hadn’t managed that golden spot they had last year, so that meant more games and more chances to lose.  Their first game against Michigan went fine, the only flub when Neil and Jack started infighting during the match.  The score was closer than Kevin wanted, but it was passable.  The next game was tighter, which was annoying.  But this wasn’t the fall season, overall scores didn’t matter anymore.  Only wins.

Neil walked into their room, rubbing his temples.  “How does Stiles do a full class load?” he mumbles, dropping his bookbag onto the ground and flopped into the beanbag chair next to Kevin. 

“Asshole’s the energizer bunny,” Kevin said. 

“I couldn’t sleep one night and went to a run and he was meditating in the courtyard at four A.M.”  Neil shook his head.  “It’s weird no longer being the one with crazy problems.”

“We owe our souls to the Yakuza, Neil,” Kevin said flippantly as he flipped a few pages in the playbook.  “And suffer from severe PTSD.”

“And yet,” Neil grumbled. 

Kevin thought back to how Stiles acted over winter break.  Him and Neil and Andrew were in a downswing in their drama.  Everything felt settled.  Riko was gone and a deal had been struck.  Now they only had to worry about themselves and exy.

Stiles was obviously still in the middle of his drama, despite claims to the contrary.  He had a rich history, and it still clung to him like the spots on Lady Macbeth’s hands.

“And yet,” Kevin agreed.  “You meet up with Dan and Wymack about tomorrow’s game?”

Neil nodded.  “We want to give Ash a full quarter on the field.  I feel like we’re cheating Renee out of game play.”

“She won’t care,” Kevin said.  “The Trojans are going to make us work for it.  We barely won against them last year and they were stretched to their limits.  She’s going to want to tap out anyway.”

Neil shrugged and leaned over, looking at the playbook.  “I like being on the field as long as we are, though.  The games out of my control when I’m not there to help.”

Kevin nodded.  “And that’s why you’ll make Court.  I think Kira should start.”

Neil frowned.  “She hasn’t started since the first game.  She has too many nervous habits.”

Kevin thought back to their recent games.  She was still skittish, but she had been getting progressively better since November.  “I think she needs the push,” Kevin said.  “She’s getting more aggressive but needs to feel as if her job on the field will set the pace for the game.”

“And you want to do that against the Trojans?  Shouldn’t we wait for an easier team?”

Kevin gave him a dead eyed glare.  “You really think you push yourself against an easy team?  She needs a kick in the ass not a thumbs up and an _I believe in you_ speech.”

Neil grabbed the playbook out of Kevin’s hands and skimmed over the page he was looking at.  “She has gotten better with holding her ground lately.”

“It’s the late night practices,” Andrew said, stepping out of the bathroom and toweling his hair dry.  He hadn’t put a shirt on yet but his arm bands were securely in place.  “Stiles’s group goes in for practice after we’ve cleared out.”

“Since when?” Neil asked.

“How did they get a key to the court?” Kevin didn’t like the idea that Wymack gave one over without telling them.

Andrew shrugged.  “I’m guessing he stole someone’s and made a copy.  He seems like the type.”

Kevin huffed and stood to find his towel.  He was going to take a shower now that Andrew was out.  “Whatever they do, it looks like Kira’s the only one who’s made any improvement.”

“I never stayed and watched.  I’m not that bored,” Andrew said, taking Kevin’s vacant space on the bean bag chair. 

Andrew and Neil started doing their weird sex glare thing and Kevin wasn’t drunk so he was done with the conversation.  “Don’t be naked or touching each other when I get out, I’m begging you.”

Andrew gave Kevin one of his maniac grins.  Kevin only didn’t recoil from years of exposure to it.  He actually thought it was kind of amusing that Andrew was willfully smiling like that to freak others out.  It meant there was a personality under all that hostility after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update on my life:
> 
> It's taking me a lot longer to write chapters, mostly because I don't have the mental energy to. I've finished filming my webseries and am in the process of editing everything. (I taught myself the basics of adobe after effects and want to cry a bit from the process) The first episode is coming out on the 25th, so if you want to check that out there's a link to things in the story notes under this. Subscribe to the You Tube channel if you can. It's about werewolves and political revolution. So, fun and relevant. 
> 
> I'm currently home for a month and a half, living with my parents while I'm in between apartments. (I'm moving in with a friend whose lease was up a few months after mine and this was the best financial choice). It's a nice vacation where I can sleep in and get all my editing done and go to the gym and not pay rent and my mom makes me food. Like, what a dream. 
> 
> Then I'm going to Mexico to visit my friend. My birthday is next month so I'm sort of treating myself. 
> 
> When I finally get back to LA and move in to my new apartment, I'm going to be busting my butt doing uber, trying to find a morning shift at a cafe or something, and submitting myself for as many auditions as I can (btw I'm eligible for the actors union now which is amazing!) and trying to find a manager and also writing spec scripts to submit to some fellowship programs.
> 
> Basically, what I'm saying, is that I'm probably going to be really fucking busy. And when I'm putting my creative juices into other things (editing, writings scripts), I won't have as much time for fan fiction (which I normally actually do a lot of when I'm busy because writing helps me blow off steam). So, I apologize in advance for any major delays for this story, but you guys have always been so amazing to me I thought you deserved a more in depth explanation as to what's going on in my life.
> 
> Hope this chapter was okay. It's been really hard writing recently so I'm not sure I did everything justice, and it turned into a more of a transition chapter than anything else. Idk. 
> 
> As always, I love you. Thank you for reading. If you actually read my notes, A+ kudos for being cool. If you ever want to just chat feel free to send me a message on tumblr.


	16. deal

Their plane lands in LAX with hours before the game.  Allison and Dan were already planning on booking it downtown to go shopping after they drop their luggage off at the hotel.  Most of the team was just planning on taking a nap.  Sheena had brought her xbox and Kira had been invited to join the other freshmen in playing games.  She hadn’t decided if she wanted to go yet.  Stiles was kind of upset because he hadn’t had time to play Call of Duty since that summer but he wasn’t allowed to join.  Sheena didn’t like Stiles more than she didn’t like Neil. 

Nicky loudly declared that he was going to the hot tub and no one could stop him and that seemed agreeable to pretty much everyone else.

Stiles had never hung out with the team like this.  Normally they were half an hour early to games, enough time to get situated and get ready.  If he ever hung out with Andrew and company, it was with the sole purpose of getting drunk, and it was limited to Andrew and company.  At the beginning of summer practice Neil had asked him to help bring the team together, but Stiles hadn’t even made an attempt to talk to the team unless it was about a game.  They only talked to him when it was about a bet. 

He realized in their shuttle rental from the airport that after so long with this team, and he barely knew them.  Stiles had been right back then, they should have asked Kira to try and unite the freshmen.  He’d kept with what was familiar.  Kira and Isaac, for obvious reasons, but also Neil and Andrew and Kevin to some extent.  They were the ones who understood what it was like to feel the way Stiles felt.  He knew that almost instantly. 

Wymack pulled their shuttle up to the hotel and barked at them to all wait in the lobby until he was parked.  None of them would be able to get room keys without him anyway so they weren’t likely to go anywhere.  Plus, Abby popped out with them. 

Almost instantly, Isaac perked up.

“What is it, Lassie?” Stiles smirked as he pulled his duffle out from the shuttle’s trunk. 

“Scott’s here.”

Stiles nearly dropped his duffle on his foot.  “Scott’s here?”  He looked around and sure enough a few seconds later a familiar lopsided grin rounded the corner from the parking lot.  Stiles scrambled over himself, shoving his duffle into Isaac’s arms before racing off down the half block distance. 

“Whoa, Stiles where are you going?” Abby called out. 

Follow ups stopped as she and the entire team watched as Stiles ran straight into the arms of the teen on the corner.  Scott lifted Stiles up into the air with his hug and spun him around. 

“Holy fucking shit dude!” Stiles yelled.  “I wasn’t expecting to see you until the game!”  Once his feet were back on the ground he tugged Scott in for a head rub, laughing all the while.  He could feel the team’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care.  He hadn’t seen Scott since leaving for college, the longest they had ever been apart. 

Scott pushed him off, the same dopey smile on his face Stiles remembered.  It was like they were back in Beacon Hills.  Freshmen in high school, naive and foolish and carefree.  “Figured if you were getting in so early I could show you around campus.”

“That’s a great plan, Scotty,” Stiles beamed.  “College has made you smarter.”

Stiles’s duffle got shoved back into his arms.  “Carry your own shit, Stilinski,” Isaac quipped before giving Scott a shy smile.  “Hey, man.”

“Isaac!” Scott cheered before pulling the taller wolf into a hug.  It was quick compared to the one between Scott and Stiles, but Isaac seemed surprised by the enthusiasm.  Scott pulled back and held Isaac at arm’s length.  “Good to see you, dude.  I’m glad you’ve settled with Derek and Cora.”

Isaac only patted Scott’s shoulder twice in reply.  When Isaac stepped away Scott stilled, catching sight of Kira among the others.  She hadn’t made a move to greet him.  Stiles looked back and frowned, unsure how to handle the situation. 

Surprisingly, it was Kevin who approached them.  “Scott McCall?” he asked, looking Scott up and down.  Stiles wasn’t surprised Kevin recognized Scott.  The way that man consumed footage of exy was unparalleled.  He’s probably seen more of Scott on the field than Stiles. 

“Uh, yeah,” Scott said, trying to muse his hair back into place. 

Kevin put a hand out.  “Jeremy’s told me a lot about you.  Good luck at tonight’s game.”

Scott took the offered hand with a thousand-watt smile.  “Yeah, dude.  You too!’  Stiles was ninety percent sure he had no idea who he was talking to, but that wasn’t going to stop Scott from being excited to talk to him.

By then, Wymack was walking back from the garage, already barking at them to get their asses in line.  “Who the fuck are you?” Wymack asked, although Stiles didn’t doubt that the coach new exactly who Scott McCall was. 

It was twenty minutes later that Stiles was finally released.  He and Isaac joined Scott to tour the USC campus before they had to meet up at the stadium.  Kira had elected to play video games, pointedly telling Stiles she’d talk to Scott after the game.

“I think she doesn’t want it affecting her on the field, if you guys talk first,” Stiles said.  The fact that it would affect both their games either way hung silently over their heads as Scott showed them his dorm. 

X

“I mean, did you _see_ that!” Nicky exclaimed for the fifth time. 

“If you want to gossip you should have gone shopping with the girls,” Neil said thinking of Dan and Allison’s fervent whispers as they hopped into an uber with Renee.

“I knoooooow,” Nicky whined, flopping onto the bed.  Due to budget, it was two to a bed.  Nicky was dreading having to split with Aaron that night.  Kevin was the only one sleeping by himself, but he was on a pullout couch, so Nicky still wasn’t sure which was a better trade out.  For now, though, he was content to sprawl over the Queen seized mattress.  “But did you _see_.  I mean.  Stiles.  Our Stiles.  Sulky, smirking, sarcastic Stiles.”

“That was some impressive alliteration,” Kevin commented dryly from the couch where he was reading player stats.

“Needed for the occasion,” Nicky insisted.  “I don’t think, even when his friends visited over the summer, I’ve ever seen Stiles happy like that.”

“So?” Andrew said, attention focused on some trash magazine he stole from the lobby. 

Nicky thought about it.  He couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much.  “Trying to figure out which way is more attractive,” he told the room at large.  It was because Stiles didn’t open up like that to anybody.  And Nicky, as a person who opened up to everybody, was upset that they weren’t the friends he wanted them to be. 

He tried to remember the last time he made an effort to talk to Stiles that didn’t involve getting drunk at Eden’s or exy.  It was months ago, when he came and stayed over for New Years.  In those few days where Stiles crashed with them, Nicky had really thought they had finally gotten Stiles into their little gang.  He was their friend.  And during that time they played games and talked a bit about their home lives and what they wanted to do with their lives.

Nicky vowed to put more effort into being Stiles’s friend.  That kid should smile.  The same way Neil deserved to smile.  Neil smiled more often nowadays.  It always seemed to take him by surprise, and sometimes he caught Neil pushing the corners of his mouth down as if the smile scared him.  It had something to do with his dad, and Nicky understood that.  But Neil often smiled at Andrew and it was a miracle that those two found each other. 

Stiles deserved to have someone around that made him smile like that Scott kid did.

“He’s a striker, right?” Nicky asked. 

“If you don’t know the team we’re playing in a few hours,” Kevin started, ready to pull out some sort of training manual or some shit.

“Nope!  No.  I’m good.  I know the team.  But, like, by number.  Names are screwy,” he insisted.  “But Scott’s a striker, yeah?”

“Freshmen striker, plays more minutes than any other freshmen on the Trojans,” Andrew sited, still engrossed in his celebrity gossip rag.  “He’s five-ten.  Strong agility on the field.”

“Jeremy said they’re grooming him to be a captain after Marcy graduates next year.”

“What was in the water that so many college exy players came from that one town,” Nicky huffed.  “I mean, I get that Isaac and Kira moved away, but that’s four of them all having gone to the same school in the same grade.”

“Five,” Andrew said.

“What?” Nicky said.  He knew he said it was a lot, but four wasn’t that hard to count.

“Five,” Andrew repeated.  “Stiles said something about a Jackson when he found out Isaac was on the team.  He, Scott, and Isaac also played exy with a kid named Jackson Whittemore who moved to London after their sophomore year.  He’s playing exy for King’s College now.” 

“Huh,” Nicky mused. 

The door to their room opened and Aaron entered holding a mess of snacks from the vending machine a floor below.  He was ticked off that the cheerleaders were staying at a different hotel, so none of them had missed his presence in the last few minutes, but now Nicky was excited for the snacks. 

“Don’t eat that junk before a game!” Kevin snapped, getting up to take the small packs of donuts and cookies and chips away from Aaron.  Things quickly dissolved into a game of keep away with the bonus challenge of not letting the food hit the ground after they had opened the packages to eat as they tossed the snacks between them. 

X

Renee threw off her helmet in an uncommon show of frustration.  The Trojan’s kept getting past her.  She had managed to block a couple of throws to goal but the game was nearing its end and they were down by four points.  Sheena had stupidly gotten herself a red card so Wymack was taking the opportunity to switch things up. 

“Don’t let them score anymore,” Renee said to Andrew as he pulled back on his goalie padding. 

“Why?  We’re going to lose anyway.”

Renee rolled her eyes and sat down.  “Coach is putting in Kira, our only offensive dealer.  With her, Kevin, and your boy, we might be able to tie it up before the game’s called.  If.  You.  Don’t.  Let.  Them.  Score.”

Andrew shrugged.  It wasn’t incentive enough.  This wasn’t life or death.  No one’s pride was being challenged. 

Stiles plopped down on Andrew’s other side.  “Twenty bucks says Scott can score on you.”

“No one can score on me if I don’t let them,” Andrew said, pulling on his helmet.

“No one can block Scott unless he lets them,” Stiles countered. 

Renee wondered if that kind of taunting would work on Andrew.  He didn’t seem to react as he marched passed them and onto the field.  “That confident?” she asked as Stiles grinned madly at the field.

Stiles shrugged.  “Nah.  But it’s been a fun game.  And Scott’s not as predictable as he seems, so I might make some money out of this.”

With Kira’s help, they did manage to make a few more scores, but they still lost.  Scott’s shot went right past Andrew’s head. 

X

Kira nervously waited outside the Trojan’s locker room door.  A few of the other team had already come out and given her strange looks, but didn’t say anything.  She had given her things to Isaac and promised to meet them back at the hotel later.  Stiles was right, she couldn’t avoid this forever.

When Scott finally came out, it was with a half buttoned shirt that clung to his skin awkwardly because he hadn’t finished drying himself before getting dressed.

“Kira!” he exclaimed.  “You’re here.”

Kira nodded, blushing slightly.  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  “Are you free for coffee?”

Scott’s face melted into a smile.  Kira’s heart hurt that much more.

They walked in relative silence to the café on campus, not far from the exy field.  Kira didn’t want to start this conversation and have to pause it to order anything.  She also didn’t want to start this conversation. 

“So, you’re back,” Scott hedged once the warm beverages were finally in their hands.  They opted to continue walking than have the conversation inside.  It was a private talk anyway.

Kira nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m back.  For good this time.”

“That’s great, Kira.”

She knew what he wanted to ask.  She knew what he was wondering about.  It was the same thing they had talked about on that skype call over the summer. 

“We still can’t be together,” Kira told him.

“But – ”

“I told you not to wait for me, Scott,” she pleaded.  “I told you.”

“I knew you were going to make it, though,” Scott said.

Kira shook her head.  “There’s a reason why foxes and wolves don’t mix, Scott.  I’m back, yeah, but.  I’m going to live so much longer than you.  You will live a long time, but I will live so much longer.”

“So what?”

He was so earnest it hurt, deep to her core.  She loved him.  “I just got my life back, Scott.  I’ve changed.  And I can’t tie my life to anyone or anything right now.  Maybe not for the next hundred years.  I just can’t.”  Kira wished the words that came out of her mouth wouldn’t cut him worse than the sword she had begun to wear around her waist again ever could.

Scott’s lopsided jaw fell slack, all the muscles in his face dropping with gravity.  Crestfallen.  He understood her resolve on this issue. 

“I love you,” Scott whispered. 

Kira smiled briefly, a tight lipped movement that felt too heavy to hold.  “I love you, too.”  She took a deep breath, finding courage in the warmth of her coffee.  “But you have to move on.  You’re amazing, Scott.  And so full of love.  You’ll be able to love someone else as completely as you love me.  Or Allison.  Because I know you never stopped loving her.  And that’s okay.”  Kira gulped down a clump in her throat.  “You don’t have to stop loving someone to love someone else.  So please.  Go find someone else.”

Scott reached out and Kira let him wrap a hand around her forearm.  He crowded in close.  She could feel the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest.  His arm snaked behind her, hand resting on the curve of her back.  Scott rested his forehead against the top of her head, taking a deep breath.  She rested a cheek on his shoulder.  Their coffee made the hug less tactile than either of them wanted, but helped keep the space both of them needed. 

“You smell like thunder storms,” Scott murmured into her hair.

“You smell like a crisp morning breeze,” Kira said, taking a deep inhale.  She smiled into his shirt.  “And two in one shampoo and conditioner.” 

Scott let out a wet laugh.  “Don’t judge.  I’m a broke college student.”  She giggled, tears pricking at her eyes.   

“You’ve always used that stuff.”  Kira pulled back to look at him.  There were stars in his eyes although the sun hadn’t set yet.  “Can we still be friends?  I don’t want things to be weird when you inevitably come and visit Stiles.”

Scott smiled down at her.  They were still hugging in the middle of a quad and students kept passing.  “I’ll be your friend as long as you’ll be mine.”

“Deal.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dodododododododododo
> 
> sorry for the speedy nature of this chapter. i feel like it's sort of a highlight reel build up to an important moment, i guess. I'm also bummed at myself because there was stuff i wasn't able to write about Stiles and Scott that i'm going to have to shove into the next chapter without it coming across and last minute exposition. ugh. 
> 
> anywho!
> 
> my life is absolutely too many things right now. hope you like the story! it's coming to a close. maybe 3 or so more chapters? idk. i stupidly decided to publish Double Walker despite knowing i don't have time for anything, but i'm selfish and wanted feedback asap. 
> 
> despite all the craziness that is my life, i think things are fairly okay right now which is in itself a miracle. 
> 
> hope you all are doing amazing. i can't thank people enough for being supportive of me and my life/writing/craziness. love you all!


	17. we were never friends

Kira had been quiet the whole flight back to Palmetto.  Stiles had wanted to ask how the coffee date with Scott had gone, but he also didn’t want to pry.  Scott only said they settled things.  Stiles liked knowing what was going on with everyone, because he’d found himself in the middle of too many puzzles in the past.  But this was something private, and he could respect that. 

The next morning Kira found Stiles and Isaac at breakfast, her tray of hash browns and bacon made Stiles feel queasy.  He always felt a little weird after away games.  The traveling always got to him.  They had Captain Crunch though, so that was fine.  Isaac was eating pizza, because they had already started to serve lunch.  Stiles hadn’t decided if that were disgusting or ingenious. 

“Did Scott talk to you about the Seattle team?” Kira asked sternly.  Her brow was scrunched and mouth pinched. 

Stiles nodded around a spoonful of sugar cereal.  “Yeah, he said they’re weird.”

“He _said_ ,” Isaac cut in, gnawing on a pizza crust, “that there were two wolves on the team and they were on edge at their fall banquet.”

Stiles shrugged.  “So were we, kinda.”

“I don’t know,” Kira said.  “It sounded a lot like a warning to me.” 

“Scott doesn’t do ominous warnings,” Stiles said.  “I know I’m the paranoid one, but if he thought something was fishy he’d just say so.  Not drop hints out of some fucking cryptic tv show.”

Kira sighed.  “No, I know.  But like, what if Scott himself isn’t fully aware of it.  He played Seattle on the Trojan court.  Like, nothing enough to be afraid of to warrant a warning, but,” she shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

Stiles slurped up the milk in his bowl and thought it over.  There had been times in the past where Scott had acted purely on instinct.  “I’ll look into the pack, see what’s up in the area.  Our game with them isn’t for another three weeks.”  He looked over to Isaac.  “Can you ask Derek if he’s heard anything?”

Isaac gave him a thumbs up, mouth full of another slice. 

“Good talk.”  Stiles threw his empty cup into his empty bowl and stood up.  He had class in twenty but his brain was already racing to figure out what was going on in Seattle.

X

Neil was worried about losing to the Trojans.  They had a lot of games to beat before the finals and Neil wasn’t sure they were going to make it there.  They were lucky last year.  Sure, there was a lot of good game play on their part, but also simply a lot of a luck.  The best slot in the playoffs, a more cohesive team than usual, Kevin’s wrist healing enough to play right handed by the time the faced the Ravens, the Trojan’s choosing to only use the same number of players the Foxes had.  It was a good year, a streak of good luck. 

Now, however, the team was imbalanced by the six freshmen.  There was infighting as bad as when Seth played with them.  He couldn’t get along with Jack, even though he’s long since called him out on his behavior.  They just clashed too much.  Sheena didn’t help matters.  She clashed with everyone, picking fights with Stiles and Kira and even Renee. 

Plus, Andrew was being moodier than usual since losing the last game.  Stiles’s friend had managed to score on him when Andrew was actually trying.  Last year Andrew’s commitment to the game was a gift that came against all odds.  His struggles with his medication and then sobriety was a challenge and Neil never could wrap his head around how Andrew did it all. 

The spent their whole late night practice running goal drills, trying to get past Andrew.  Scott wasn’t using a heavier stick.  The physics of it didn’t make sense.  The Trojan had thrown the ball faster and harder than either Neil or Kevin could.  The only question was how. 

Stiles didn’t seem surprised.  He’d actually made money on it. 

“Isaac does it sometimes, too,” Andrew said to Neil’s complaining when they got back to the dorms. 

“What?”

“Isaac’s a backliner so he uses the heavier stick, but even still his muscles exert more force than to be expected sometimes.  There’s a strong man named Dennis Rogers who can do true acts of super strength like that, but for most that requires intense training and more years than any college student would have put into it.  And yet we have Isaac Lahey and Scott McCall, even Kira Nang.”

“Not Stiles?” Neil asked, thinking about that first game back in the fall. 

“No, but Benjamin Martinelli.  Probably that whole clique.”

“Minus Stiles.”

Andrew nodded.  “Minus Stiles.”

Neil frowned, absently touching at the burn marks on his face.  “What do you think it is?  Some type of drug?”

Andrew shrugged and pulled off his shirt.  There was a bruise forming from where Kevin managed to hit him during practice.

“Not your problem.”

Neil frowned.  “You’ve been upset all day because Stiles’s friend got past you.”

Andrew reached over and grabbed the hem of Neil’s shirt.  “Yes or no?”

Neil thought about it.  Andrew didn’t want to talk about what was upsetting him.  He didn’t want Neil to stay up all night worrying about it.  He was curious.  But was it really not Neil’s problem?  If there was a drug ring or something going on, that was affecting their gameplay against other teams, that was affecting _his players_.  He needed to know about that. 

At the same time.

“Yes,” Neil whispered.

Andrew pulled Neil’s shirt up and over Neil’s head.  “Kevin’s said he won’t be back until midnight.”

Neil kissed his neck.  He grinned at Andrew’s shiver.  “Okay.”

X

Isaac said that there was radio silence from the packs in the Seattle area.  Derek didn’t know too many on the werewolves out there, but he’d reach out to the ones he did to figure out what if anything was going on.  The two wolves on the Seattle team weren’t from the area, one from Indiana and the other Minnesota.  Grapevine said that both of them were pushing to be transferred, which wasn’t the easiest thing with a collegiate sports contract.  

Something was definitely going on in Seattle, but Stiles just couldn’t figure out what.

He was only two Red Bulls deep into his research binge when a knock on the door startled him full body out of his chair.  Over the course of his time at Palmetto Stiles had gotten used to a lot of things.  And the lack of privacy was the biggest.  Regardless of the shower situation at the court, he still lived in a triple and the whole team thought that unless the door was locked and barricaded, there was really no reason they couldn’t just pop in any time they wanted.  (Okay, so maybe just Nicky, but he tended to drag around an entourage of at least one other Fox.) 

“Stiles, I know you’re in there,” the muffled voice sighed when Stiles apparently took too long detangling himself from his fallen desk chair. 

His stomach bottomed out as he clambered to his feet.  “Derek?”  He stumbled over his feet as he raced to the door, nervously remembering the last time they had been face to face.  Stiles’s jaw clenched and he couldn’t seem to move past placing a hand on the door knob.

A heavy sigh was only too audible from the other side of the door.  “Come on, Stiles.  There’s no reason to be freaked out.”

“You say that,” Stiles hedges, willing himself to take the metaphorical plunge and open the door , “and yet here I am, freaking out.  I think my body knows how to react properly to situations of stress.”

Derek raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Stiles had to swallow whatever words were on his tongue. 

“You have to trick yourself out of panic attacks with an inhaler,” Derek said.  “Proper doesn’t really cut it.”

“What are you doing here?”

It was Friday night.  Andrew and his crew were at the club.  Isaac was on a date with one of the cheerleaders.  Jack was either on a date with Sheena or they were getting drunk and intimidating people as a form of foreplay.  Kira had been invited to hang out with the vixens (she might possibly be joining a sorority, it was unclear).  And Stiles was essentially all alone.  He wasn’t getting drunk tonight because he was too interested in the strange news clippings about Seattle to do much more than give himself an eye strain headache and waste all of his printer ink.

“Isaac said you’d probably hurt yourself trying to do research and that I should come save you,” Derek smirked.

Stiles rolled his eyes and turned away, heading back to his computer in an effort to hide the blush that burst across his face.  Stupid Isaac.  “I don’t need saving,” Stiles said, shutting his laptop and gathering up the scattered papers he’d already been printing. 

He shuffled the papers together and knocked them into alignment before setting them on his desk.  Derek was oddly quiet and when Stiles looked over, the older man was staring at the calendar Stiles had tacked above his Desk. 

It was riddled with sticky notes, various pen and highlighter notations, cramped penciled in meetings.  Stiles had every moment of his life figured out.

Derek frowned.

“How are you managing all of this?” he asked.

Stiles crossed his arms defensively.  “Just fine.”

Derek shot him a skeptical look.  “Have you given more thought to seeing a therapist?  If you don’t like mine, I think he has a whole network–”

“I don’t need you giving me life advice, Derek,” Stiles snapped.  Now that he had been knocked out of his research binge, the Red Bull was starting to make him jittery.  “I know how I function, I know what my limits are, I don’t need anybody policing that.”

Derek shook his head and looked back at the calendar.  “Just because you’re capable of doing something without dying doesn’t make it the same as living.”

Stiles ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  It was getting ungodly long now.  His scraggly semblance of a beard needed shaving too.  He probably looked like a freaking caveman.  “Okay, and?”

Derek tapped the date on the calendar.  The Friday night had been colored in black because, surprise, Stiles had originally planned to black out.  It made it easy to substitute with the nights Andrew’s gang insisted he come to Eden’s Twilight with them.  Or drink a case of Red Bull and do a research project in less than twelve hours and sleep the entire next day.  Whatever.

“Doesn’t seem you like have any urgent plans,” Derek said.

Stiles squinted his eyes, unsure what Derek was getting at.

“Grab your coat,” he finally said. 

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure how he found himself taking the fucking buss next to Derek Hale.  He wasn’t sure where they were going or why but the Red Bull he had snagged on the way out the door wasn’t helping anything.  Stiles couldn’t keep his attention on anything now that he was out of the research binge.  The hum of the bus, the old lady coughing two seats ahead, the college girls who pregamed a little too hard and were now on the way to a venue.  One girl wore a bracelet he thinks Lydia owns.  There was a dude at the very back with orange headphones over his fuchsia baseball hat that even Stiles could hear the bass of, so he wondered how it must be grating Derek’s ears. 

He looked over to Derek, who nestled into the window, perfectly at ease.  He caught Stiles’s eye pretty quickly.  Stiles ducked his gaze, catching the patch of pink skin poking out of the collar of Derek’s shirt.  His breath hitched looking at it, the mar of healing flesh. 

“It’s still,” he said, pointing at the pink patch.  He had known his magic had gone a little haywire, but he hadn’t expected it to take _Derek_ an _alpha werewolf_ this long to heal. 

Derek shrugged.  “Yeah.  I mean, you’re pretty powerful.  But it doesn’t hurt.  And it wasn’t your fault.”

“Not my fault!” Stiles squeaked out.  “I remember pretty clearly what happened.”

“Stiles,” Derek said firmly, snatching hold of the hand that was still pointing at him.  Stiles’s cheeks burned as Derek essentially held his hand.  Aggressive hand holding, that was a thing apparently.  “It was an accident.”

Stiles stopped for a moment and let his brain catch up to everything.  “But Isaac’s not hurt.”  When Stiles had freaked out at the Hale’s, he’d pushed back all of them with magic.

“It was a magic injury, Stiles,” Derek said, letting go of his hand.  “I was able to fix it the same way I helped when Cora was in the hospital because of Jennifer.”

“You lost it again!” Stiles flailed, his heart beat jackrabbiting.  He didn’t think he could deal with being the reason _two_ good alphas lost their powers.

Derek shook his head.  “No, Stiles.  It wasn’t that serious.  But it made it slower for me.”  He pushed at Stiles’s shoulder.  “Come on, this is our stop.”

Stiles stumbled out of the bus seat, still uncomfortable knowing he’d hurt Derek worse than he realized, that Derek almost sacrificed his alpha status _again_ to save his betas.  He should have stuck around instead of running off in a panic.  He could have figured out what he’d actually done, maybe reversed it.  Derek wouldn’t be injured.  None of them would have.

“Stiles,” Derek said again, his hand shaking his shoulder gently.  “Get out of your head.  Come on.”

The door to the bus opened and Derek nearly pushed him forward and onto the street.  Derek herded him down a couple blocks it was really starting to piss Stiles off.  He was just about to ask where the fuck Derek was bringing him when Derek yanked him through a door.   

Stiles barely caught sight of Derek waving to the guy working entry before he was swept up in the smell of hookah and tacky beer.  “Did you bring me to a bar?  Like, don’t get me wrong, thanks.  But you do know I’m still underage, right.”

Derek snorted.  “It’s an eighteen plus venue.  You need a wristband to get drinks.  And we’re far enough away from your campus that not too many college students ruin the place.” 

“How come you don’t have a wristband then,” Stiles pointed out.

“Because I don’t drink, Stiles,” he said like Stiles was being obtuse on purpose.  “Just sit down.”  Derek had led him to a section of tables.  There was a back room that was a bit hazy with smoke, but out here wasn’t too bad.  There was a little stage, a five inch platform really, where some hipster was playing fucking _Wonderwall_. 

“What are we doing here?”

“ _You_ ,” Derek said pointedly, taking the seat opposite him, “needed to get out of your dorm room.  Do something resembling a normal Friday night.”  Derek rapped his fingers against the table a few times.  “ _I_ come here a lot.”

“You do?”  Stiles looked around again.  It didn’t really seem like Derek’s kind of place.  Derek belonged in a dive bar where no one talked to each other.  The creepy kind in movies where if a stranger walked in everyone would turn and stare and make it weird. 

Derek shrugged, ducking his head as he scratched his beard.  “Yeah.  Uh, you know how I said I picked up a new hobby?”

“I don’t think hookah counts as a hobby, bro.”

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Shut up, Stiles.  And just, stay here.”  Derek stood up and began to walk away.  Before Stiles could protest this treatment, Derek turned back and ducked his head close to Stiles.  “And don’t think there’s any kind of message.  It’s just the song my teacher picked out to work on.”

Stiles blinked, brain short circuited from the proximity of Derek’s warm breath and piercing pale eyes.  It wasn’t until Wonderwall stopped playing that his eyes found Derek hanging by the edge of the stage and things slotted together. 

“This can’t be happening,” Stiles whispered.  Derek shot him a glare before hopping up on stage, dragging the stool over to the keyboard set up a little to the side.  “This is the most surreal moment of my life.”

Derek repositioned the microphone before addressing the small crowd of the bar.  “Hey.  Before I begin, I’d like to thank Jamie for letting me start playing on Fridays instead of the normal Monday open mic.  I’m really not that good, so I apologize in advance.”

Then Derek started playing.  The chords were fairly simple to start, but also very recognizable.  Stiles sat memorized, waiting with a catch in his breath until Derek leaned into the microphone over the keyboard and sang. Derek’s voice was a little deeper, a little huskier, but dear god just as heartbreaking sensual as the words tumbled out.  Stiles shivered.  “ _These nights never seem to go as planned_ ,” Derek sang, “ _I don’t want you to leave, will you hold my hand_?”

Derek spoke more than sang the chorus, some of the notes too high.  Stiles watched, unable to connect this guy, this amateur musician, this friends-with-the-staff regular, this man who cared that Stiles wasn’t driving himself insane from too many Red Bulls and a research project, with Derek Hale.  Derek was angry and emotionally stunted and always tried his best but also always fucked up.  Derek was someone who had all the potential to be the guy playing piano for a somewhat drunk Friday night crowd, but who only ever got in his own way.

It shouldn’t have come as such a shock.  Stiles had stayed with him for half of Christmas break.  Stiles was quick to note how relaxed his shoulders were and the lack of tension around his eyes.  Stiles knew that Derek and Cora and Isaac and to have gone through a lot to come together they way they now did.  All three of them were living solid, happy lives, and not the flighty terrified ones they had before.  Obviously, those changes came from somewhere.  The therapy Derek was going to was helping.  The bonding with his family was important.  The healthy building of his pack was pivotal. 

But all that didn’t prepare Stiles for the sight of Derek doing _this_.  And it wasn’t just because his voice sent goosebumps down Stiles’s arms.  It was because Derek was open about enjoying something, doing something, actively participating and learning something.  And he was sharing that with Stiles, of all people.

The song trailed off into the soft applause of the bar and Stiles kept his eyes glued to Derek as he made his way back to their little table.

He looked nervous. 

Stiles wished he had water, or like a stiff glass of whiskey.  He swallowed dryly and was finally able to look away as Derek sat down.  “What were you saying about not reading into any message that song might have?” Stiles said before clearing his throat.  He looked back up at Derek, who still seemed nervous.  “When did you start playing?”

“When I was a kid, actually,” Derek said.  “Not very long.  I hated it.  But I uh,” his eyes went distant and a frown pulled at his lips.  “I had this girlfriend, in high school.  She was in the school orchestra.”  Derek shrugged.  “I tried playing again for a bit because of her.  Then never touched a piano again until sometime after Isaac and I headed down to meet Cora.”

“Why?”

“There was a piano in the lounge of a hotel we stayed at.  Braeden had found a therapist for me before then who I had seen a few times.  They suggested a hobby.  I don’t know.  Thought I’d see what I could remember.”  Derek looked uncomfortable, hunching in on himself in a move Stiles had almost forgotten from him.

“Thanks.  Thank you.  For showing me.”  He stared at Derek until the older man looked up.  This was something big.  It didn’t matter their differences or how much some part of Stiles still wanted to hate Derek.  This was a gift.  He would accept it with care.

Derek ducked his head again, but he seemed less nervous and afraid than he had a moment before.  “I’m glad you came, then.”

Stiles laughed.  “Well you didn’t give me much of a choice.”  Derek gave him an unreadable look and Stiles cleared his throat again.  “Uh, I’m going to grab something to drink.”

Derek stood up, motioning Stiles to stay seated.  “I’ll get it.  I dragged you here after all.”

Derek headed over to the bar and Stiles suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself.  He tugged at his shirt sleeves and tried to pay attention to the girl on stage, but he couldn’t stop thinking of how Derek looked up there with the lights on his face and his lips almost brushing the microphone.  Stiles turned to check where Derek was, and it was clear the bartender was flirting as she filled two cups with soda.  Derek either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

Stiles let his head fall back, memorizing the pattern of ceiling tiles and listening to the din around him to drown out the confusing muddle of thoughts bouncing around his brain.  What was he doing here?  Derek was right, he needed to get out.  He needed a chance to be normal.  Because even on the entire other side of the country, Stiles hadn’t been able to stop being the guy he was in high school.

Not the hyperactive academic deviant he was before Scott got bit.  Stiles couldn’t seem to shake being a supernatural martyr.  He was obsessed.  He had done magic that had literally forced him away from the whole situation, and yet here he was diving into research to solve a potential crisis in a place he’s never even been.  His obsession with the supernatural, with solving problems that weren’t his, of needing to _know_ everything out of fear his lack of knowledge will one day kill him… it was worse than anything else Stiles had ever experienced.

It was worse as his unhealthy love for Lydia before they became friends.  It was worse than his persistence to snoop in on his father’s cases.  It was worse than the extensive medical research binges he had done while his mother was dying (and didn’t stop until long after her death).  This wasn’t infatuation.  This wasn’t fascination.  This wasn’t dire need of understanding.

This was fear that all the things he’s ever faced will never stop haunting him.  This was fueled by the knowledge that the supernatural had been hovering over his family for generations, that his grandfather was in magical history books.  This came from anger that his mother never told him, never prepared him for a world he was near destined to fall into. 

And the only way to make sure something supernatural doesn’t attack him is to attack them first.  He was looking for problems to solve.  His gut clenched and his head spun a bit as he stared at the ceiling.  One wrong move and Stiles would be no better than the hunters.

“You okay?” Derek asked, setting two glasses on the table. 

Stiles blinked a few times, pulling himself back into this moment.  He smiled weakly and wrapped his hand around the cool glass.  “Drank too many Red Bulls.”  He took a long sip of the coke Derek had grabbed him and looked back onto the stage where they were changing artists again.  “You only get one song?” he asked.

Derek laughed, a small sound but one that made Stiles’s heart flutter in a way he was refusing to acknowledge.  “I only know like four songs and I tend to play them on other nights.  They’re sick of me.”

“Nah, you probably bring in all the whole crowd.  They love you.”  Stiles tapped his fingers against the glass. 

“They have a full set that’s going up soon, they just let people open mic until the band gets in to set up.”

“Surprised more PSU students don’t come here.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice hole in the wall,” Derek agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the new duo’s music to drift over them.  Derek rapped his fingers against the table.  Stiles tapped his glass.  The bar wasn’t super crowded or terribly noisy, and yet Stiles felt suffocated.

“What are we doing, Derek.”

“Having a non-alcoholic drink and listening to live music on a Friday night,” he offered.  “Talking?”

“You know what I mean.”

Derek sighed and ran a hand over the short whiskers of his beard.  “I don’t know, Stiles.”  He took a moment before bringing his eyes up to meet Stiles’s.  “The only thing I can say is that, whether or not you are, I think of you as pack.  You’re someone important.  You,” he sighed, “you always have been.  You’re someone I trust.”

Stiles blinked, his gut clenching tighter and the flutter in his chest turning into a whirlwind.  The words were hard to find, his voice even harder.  “Whenever we’re together, it doesn’t feel like friendship,” he admitted.

Derek dropped his gaze to the table.  He traced a ring of condensation left from his glass.  “Did I ever tell you about the time Kate came back?”

Stiles frowned, unsure where that came from.  “No?”

“I was in shock.  Both from seeing her and thanks to the bullets she shot me with.  I, I don’t know, pulled back into myself I guess.  I lost touch with reality for a moment.  And I was with you.”

“What?” Stiles breathed out, his head spinning with the implications.

“I needed to feel safe, and I dreamed up you, telling me the information you had been spouting about how to tell if something was real or not.  You had been counting your fingers for months.  And I grabbed your hand, and you had six fingers.”  Derek looked back up to him then.  “I can’t speak about how you feel, but I don’t think this has ever been just friendship between us.  Not sure if we ever were friends.”

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip.  No, they had never been friends.  Not the way Scott or Lydia or even Malia were his friends.  Not the way he was now friends with Kira and fucking Isaac.  Not even the bonds he had with Andrew and Nicky and kind of sort of Neil and Kevin were anywhere near the strange relationship he and Derek had.  A tangled thread of putting up with each other’s bullshit and saving each other’s lives.

Stiles thought about how he saw Derek’s initials on the library shelf before signing his own.  He had felt so alone in that moment, despite his best friends all standing right next to him. 

“Derek, I don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing here,” he said, getting angry at himself.  “You’re twenty-five.  Like, doesn’t that age difference seem weird to you?  You were supposed to be a stupid crush on someone older.  That’s common as fuck.  But dating?  Are we even talking about dating?  Because like, what you just told me sounded like some weird ass soul mate shit and.  Fuck, I have seen you almost die so many times and I’m still _so angry_ at you for just leaving and not letting me know you were okay.  Okay?”  Stiles took in a deep, shaky breath, glad that they were tucked a little further away from most of the bar.  “Fuck.”

Derek placed a hand over the one Stiles had left on the table.  This was the second time he’d held his hand that night.  “I don’t know, Stiles.”  He shifted his grip so that he wasn’t just holding onto Stiles’s hand, but so that they could slot their fingers together.  “I didn’t really expect us to address whatever this is tonight.  I just.  I’m a jerk, a lot of the time.  I posture and I push people around and I admit it’s equal parts annoying and hilarious to get you riled up.  But I am trying so hard to not have that be our only form of communication because I’m want to repair the bridge I burnt when I left Beacon Hills.”  Derek gave Stiles’s hand a squeeze before pulling away.  Stiles let him, unsure of himself in the moment.  “That’s all I’m asking.  We can figure out the rest later.”

“We’re just… getting to know each other again,” Stiles offered.

Derek nodded.  “Yeah.  That sounds good.”

Stiles squinted his eyes suspiciously.  “How often did you purposefully fuck with me before?”

Derek smirked.  “I mean, I didn’t have a TV.  Had to get my entertainment somewhere.”

Stiles laughed.  “You’re unbelievable.”

Derek flashed his pearly whites in an imitation of his annoyed sneer Stiles had become overly familiar with in the past.  This time, however, Stiles could see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes, the mischief that too often pulled them together.

X

Some money exchanged hands when the team found out about Stiles’s not date with Derek.  Ash had seen them at the bar holding hands.  He needed to keep a closer eye on that girl.  She was quiet and sneaky and apparently does hookah on the weekends.  The foxes didn’t believe him that he and Derek weren’t dating and that nothing had happened.  Well, Isaac did, but he was also probably the worst at making fun of the two of them. 

“They haven’t fucked yet, so that bet’s still on.  But you at least admitted your feelings for each other.  Huge milestone,” Isaac laughed.

“I’m going to strangle you with every scarf in your closet.”

The threat, of course, went ignored. 

When Nicky finally _asked_ instead of making lewd comments, Stiles told him (and thereby the whole team) that he and Derek were just trying to figure out how to be around each other again after all the shit that went down back home.  Stiles was done being angry with him.  And they _weren’t dating_ despite the growing frustration whenever he got a text from Derek.  Stiles wanted to bang his head against the wall for freaking out so badly after Derek had confessed that they were never really friends but always low key something more.  They could be fucking.  The foxes could finally close their bets on him.

He didn’t know which one sounded nicer.  His teammates were getting really fucking annoying.

Renee of all people was giving him the stick eye on the plane to Seattle.  “I have a reputation for winning these bets, Stiles.  You’re ruining my record!” 

By the time they landed and Stiles could take his phone off airplane mode, he wanted nothing more than to vent to Derek.  He suppressed the urge because the action would only warrant more mocking from everyone.  Mostly Isaac. 

However, as soon as he switched his phone on, it blew up with messages and missed call alerts and immediately started ringing. Lydia’s smiling face covered the screen and his heart plummeted.

Someone started asking if that was Stiles’s boyfriend, but the fully freaked out face shut them up pretty quick.  “Lydia?  What’s wrong?”

“Where are you?” she asked, voice tense.

“I just landed in Seattle, why?”

“I just,” she let out a stuttering breath.  “I don’t have a good feeling.  About you.  I’m worried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this was significantly longer than expected! hope it was worth the wait!!!! Again, I foolishly started too many projects at once. I'm writing in rotation to make sure I publish in a somewhat decent time frame, even though it's a bit slower than usual. 
> 
> If you want to learn how to read my fics early or get sneak peaks of upcoming chapters, check out my [tumblr's ABOUT section!](http://baneofawolf.tumblr.com/about)


	18. the storm

They didn’t have the luxury of time before the game like their match against the Trojans and Stiles’s nervous energy was effecting the whole team.  The shuttle to the campus was twenty full minutes of a hushed phone call to Lydia, the girl who had read Neil like a book.  The longer Stiles talked, the more Isaac looked like he was going to puke and Kira was squeezing the seat in front of her so hard Neil almost thought it was going to tear off.  Stiles’s knee kept bouncing up and down in an unsteady rhythm that was making its way to everyone else. 

It’s not that they were nervous about Stiles, but without even watching him as intently as Andrew was, they were picking up on atmosphere and adding to it.  Ashe was biting her nails.  Sheena and Jack were bickering with each other for a change of pace.  Allison was touching up her foundation for an unprecedented fourteenth time since getting on the bus.  Dan, Matt, and Nicky were uncharacteristically quiet, bunched together in the front, Nicky tapping his fingers on the seat and staring out the window.  Even Kevin wasn’t giving them a last-minute lecture on the opposing team’s skillset.  Renee was her usual soft smiling self, but she was keeping to herself in a way that wasn’t familiar.  Only Aaron seemed normal in the fact he was always gruff and pissy. 

“You’re going to burn a hole in his head,” Neil told Andrew, who had been staring at Stiles since they got on the shuttle. 

“Something’s wrong,” Andrew replied.

“I thought that was obvious,” Neil frowned, looking back over to the weird trio. 

“It’s not just them,” Andrew said before leaning forward to grab Kevin’s ear.  “Does your wrist hurt?”

Kevin frowned.  “I’m going to have to tape it, yeah.  How’d you know?”

Andrew looked back at Neil.  “In that mess of a body you’re bound to have a couple of old broken bones that are aching.”

Neil took an assessment of himself.  It wasn’t something he was usually bothered by.  He had so many scars and old injuries he was bound to feel sore from time to time for no discernable reason.  But yeah.  His dad had bashed in his clavicle when Neil was eight and it always felt like something foreign. He hadn’t even noticed the throb of pain. 

“There’s not a cloud in the sky,” Andrew said, looking up at the picture perfect blue expanse outside the window.  “But it feels like a thunderstorm’s already here.”

Andrew stared back and Stiles and Neil knew he was making up his mind about something.  Neil wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The shuttle came to a stop, screeching lowly as it settled.  “Come on,” Neil said, “we’ve got a game to win.”

X

On the field, nothing had changed.  There was a sense of unease among the players, and Neil noticed it wasn’t just the foxes.  The home team seemed to be on the lookout for something other than the ball and two players in particular were acting like scared rabbits. 

When halftime was called they got an earful from Wymack about being fucking distracted.  The only positive was that the Seattle team was playing just as sloppily.  Halfway through Coach’s rant, Isaac leaned over and whispered something to Stiles and then to Kira.  The minute Wymack stopped talking the three of them slipped outside.

Neil nudged Andrew and nodded to the locker room entrance. 

“Yeah, I saw,” he said. 

“I feel, as co-captain, I should go after them.  We’ve only got fifteen minutes.”

Andrew shook his head.  “Not worth getting dragged into.” 

Neil couldn’t understand Andrew’s casual nature all of a sudden.  He always spouted how he didn’t care about anything, but he was always invested in those around him, especially Stiles.  For Andrew to just brush it off during a game didn’t make sense.  Andrew cared about exy, it didn’t matter what he said otherwise.  He cared, he enjoyed it, it meant something to him.  Neil watched Andrew head back out to the court without so much as a look back and wondered where that fight went. 

Neil followed Andrew out, worrying that maybe he should be keeping a better eye on his teammates.  The time Neil had slipped away was to get kidnapped.  He had solid reasons to worry.  The drama surrounding Stiles, Kira, and Isaac had always felt as impossibly large and unbearably cruel as the pain and torment that faced Neil and Kevin the year previous. 

They were inside, but through the few windows near the top of the bleachers Neil could see the sky turn dark.  The clear blue sky from just an hour ago was swirling into a dark mass of clouds and wind.  Neil rubbed at his sore collarbone and frowned.  There hadn’t been any storm forecasts, but maybe broken bones really were better than the equipment meteorologists used. 

Neil jogged over to where Kevin was retaping his wrist and looked out over the crowd of fans and reporters.  “If we lose this game, it’s the last of the season,” Neil murmured.  They still had good chances of winning.  The Foxes may not be doing their best, but they were stubborn. 

“So, don’t lose,” Kevin said, tearing the athletic tape with his teeth.  “Their team’s doesn’t seem to have a home field advantage.  They’re actually playing worse here than any of their away games this season.”

Neil frowned and looked over to where Andrew sat in the players box.  “I feel like he knows something we don’t.”

Kevin shrugged.  “We all keep things close to the chest, even now.” 

Over this past year, Neil and Andrew had gone through some ups and downs in their relationship.  Neil had been jealous, Andrew had been distant.  Neil had promised after everything last year he would stop keeping secrets, but Andrew had started keeping them.  They didn’t hang out on the roof after late night practices nearly as often this semester.  He and Andrew almost never shared a bed because of Andrew’s touch aversion, so it was hard to judge if he was ignoring Neil.  Still, Andrew’s hyper focus was subtle.  His mind could be puzzling something as complex as Stiles’s cork board while his eyes lazily tracked a speck of dust.  Andrew was the smartest guy Neil knew.  He couldn’t fathom what Andrew was keeping from him.

“I can hear you overthinking from here,” Andrew called out.

Neil felt the corner of his mouth quirk up, the beginning of a smile.  “You can’t actually read minds, Andrew,” Neil said, jogging over. 

“Thank god,” Andrew muttered.

As the minutes ticked away, Neil kept an eye on the locker entrance.  His team filed out except the three he was worried about.  “Where the hell is Stilinski?  He’s on first this half,” Wymack snapped. 

“Haven’t seen him since your thrilling speech,” Jack laughed. 

“Kira’s not back either,” Ash said.  “Or Isaac.”

Wymack ran a tired hand over his eyes.  “Sheena, go and find them.”

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone paused and looked to Andrew who was casually pulling off his gloves. 

“What?” Wymack asked in disbelief that Andrew was offering to do anything.

“I’ll do it,” Andrew said again.

Neil could only watch as Andrew walked past him.  Andrew glanced his way but kept his head forward and leisurely walked towards the locker room entrance. 

“Andrew!  You’re supposed play goal!” Wymack yelled.

Andrew waved him off.

“Fuck it.  Neil, you’re on for Stilinski.  Ash, you’re in the net.” 

Neil watched Andrew disappear into the locker rooms.  He stared until Wymack nearly shoved him onto the field.

Outside, thunder clashed.  Neil rubbed at his collar.  He didn’t have a good feeling about all this.

X

The local pack hadn’t been responding to Derek because the local pack had left town in the fall.  Billy and Lance had only met some of their members briefly when school started.  Then they just left, because they couldn’t handle one stupid supernatural crisis.  What was this, kindergarten? 

“They seriously didn’t think to call in for help?  Who the fuck was their emissary.  And don’t say they’re a young pack, because like, we lived through literal hell and only left _after_ all the evil stuff was gone,” Stiles griped, digging through his exy bag for his emergency supply of mountain ash. 

Kira ran back into the boys changing room with her belt and smiled at the two players from the home team.  “Okay, so, I think your problem is totally just outside because,” there was a crash of thunder, “that.  I really don’t like the way this storm feels.”

“Dude,” Billy said, halfway to peeing his pants, “people have been going _missing_ and everything always smells so nasty.”

“I’m scared about ninety percent of the time,” Lance agreed.  “I’m man enough to admit that.  I can’t believe you’re here though.  Again, like seriously, dude.”

“Dude,” Billy nodded.  “Stiles fucking Stilinski is here to save the day.”

“You’re a legend, man.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Don’t believe all the shit you hear.”

“Coach is looking for you.”

Everyone jumped, shocked at having been snuck up on by a human more than anything else.  Andrew leaned casually against the doorframe and stared at them all.  Stiles was triumphantly holding a jar of ash, Kira’s belt had fully extended into a katana, Billy and Lance simply weren’t supposed to be there.  (Isaac was watching the door, but the one to the hallway, not the court.)

“Um,” Stiles blinked a few times.  “This is…”

“I’m just wondering what I should tell Coach.  He knows about your extra circulars, right?”

No one spoke for a few moments.  Thunder rolled again and Kira gasped.  “Stiles!”

There was a giant crash coming from the court, a rumble that shook the room.  Everyone looked at each other with wide eyes, except Andrew who kept his façade on like he was made of stone. 

“They’ve never been this aggressive,” Billy whispered.

“I don’t think they like me here,” Kira said, clutching her belt to her chest. 

Stiles looked at everyone, trying to come up with a plan, trying to remember his research and the shit he’d learned from the Argent’s bestiary.  There was another crash and the lights flickered.  There were screams heard from the stadium.

“Billy, Lance, go make sure no one’s hurt.  If they’re tearing down the building then people might need your strength.  Isaac, you too.”

Isaac popped back into the room and nodded, grabbing Billy and Lance by the collar and dragging them out into the stands. 

“Andrew,” Stiles turned to see him, casually leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.  Stiles wasn’t fooled.  His grip was a little too tight against his arms and he was posed to unsheathe the knives he carried in those black bands.  “I don’t know what you know and frankly I don’t care at this point.  Get the team together and make sure they’re safe.”

Andrew stared, but Stiles knew that he’d listen.

“Kira,” she looked scared but steady.  This was a new threat, the first since her trials, and she was ready.  “You’re with me.  We have to lure them away from everything and they’re attracted to your thunder.”

Without waiting for response, Stiles darted out into the hall that led to the parking lot. 

“Where are you going to lead them?” Kira asked, trailing beside him. 

“I don’t fucking know, Kira,” Stiles snapped, on his last nerve with the fact he was right.  He couldn’t escape the supernatural.  He should have prepared more.  He let himself fall into a sense of security when Derek ripped him from his research.  They hadn’t heard from the local pack and Stiles gave up trying to figure out if anything was actually going on out here.

Well something was going on out here.  And once again, Stiles was responsible for everyone’s safety because he had the power and therefore the responsibility to do something.  Stupid Spiderman bullshit. 

“They’re attracted to you, natural order of things,” Stiles said once they were outside.  “Fucking hawks picking off foxes, but you’re also taking up the same elemental space.  So, we just have to get you _away_.” 

Stiles and Kira burst through the back doors and into the parking lot.  The grey clouds and high winds hit them with a force so strong they were almost knocked back inside.  Stiles surveyed the area.  This wasn’t Beacon Hills where everything was two steps away from the forest where you could safely fight without worry of civilians.  Nor was it Palmetto, a sprawling campus with stretches of open air dead space that wouldn’t be convenient for keeping things hidden but at least could keep to minimal structural damage.  But on the other end of the parking lot was another stadium, one without a roof to be pulled to shreds.

“Football field!” Stiles yelled to Kira over the roar of the wind.  It was the off season and too late in the day for a track meet.  There weren’t any busses or news vans parked that far off either.  It was a safe bet the stands were mostly empty.  “You run ahead, you’re a lot faster than me.  Try to pull some thunder out of the clouds to get their attention.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Kira strapped her belt around her waist and nodded.  She was nervous, but he believed in her.  With one final look, they both took off across the parking lot, Kira three times the speed.  Stiles wasn’t even halfway there when there was a clap of thunder and lightning lit the area, striking down just inside the football stadium. 

From the exy court, the harpies screamed.

X

The stadium was in chaos when Andrew jogged back in.  Isaac and those two home team players were in the stands, pulling people away from the wreckage where part of the roof has buckled.  One of the news reporters was recording the whole thing, calling it a freak lightning strike.  The game had unsurprisingly been called to hold already and Andrew zeroed in on Neil’s location before anyone else. 

He was okay, just confused, like the rest of them.  Wymack had that constipated look on his face that he had had adopted for Stiles’s particular idiosyncrasies as he stared up at the stands.  Some people were trying to evacuate, while most just watched in stunned amazement.  It didn’t look like a lightning strike.  It looked like something big had tried to rip the building apart.

There was a crash of thunder outside almost immediately followed by a flash of lightning.  Then, from just outside, a screech that got swallowed up by the raging winds.  Something almost akin to the rumbling of thunder, but much, much more alive.

“Stiles is on it,” Andrew told him.  “He and Kira headed outside.”

That seemed to light a spark under Wymack’s ass.  He jolted as if finally seeing the full picture even after staring at the complete puzzle for a while. 

“His dad is going to kill me,” Wymack grit out.  He brought his fingers to his lips and blew out a harsh whistle, grabbing the team’s attention.  “EVERYONE TO THE LOCKER ROOM, NOW!”

They didn’t need to be told twice but as Matt jogged by he looked back up to the stands.  “What about Isaac?”

Andrew looked up to where Isaac was still helping to clear some rubble and checking to make sure injuries weren’t too bad.  Wymack cringed, hesitant to pull his good Samaritan student away from the danger.  Andrew didn’t think either of them really understood what was so different about the weird freshmen trio, but they both had the feeling Isaac could handle himself. 

“Worry about your own ass,” Wymack told Matt, shoving the players that had stalled around him to keep going.

Wymack gave Andrew an assessing look, seemingly unsurprised Andrew had figured out just how weird those freshmen were.  Wymack motioned for Andrew to follow his teammates.  When Andrew did, he heard Wymack swear under his breath about how he was _definitely_ not paid enough for this shit.

The locker room was in chaos.  Everyone was talking over each other: _holy shit did you see that, where are Stiles and Kira, what the fuck just happened, it’s just a storm guys, stop freaking out, I WILL NOT STOP FREAKING OUT, no but seriously where are Stiles and Kira, are we going to finish the game or what, when did it even start raining, did you see Isaac fucking vault into the stands, I fucking hate thunder, Ash you need to like breathe you’re fine it’s just rain, how many people are hurt out there, should we be helping, what the fuck no we should just fucking leave, the games not finished Aaron!_

Wymack let out another ear splitting whistle and barked out a loud “HEY!” to get everyone to shut up.  The strings of conversation faded out abruptly and everyone stared at their Coach.  “What’s going to happen is that all of you are going to _stay here_ until I say otherwise.  If Isaac brings his merry ass out of the stands, you keep him here too.  If a referee or a representative from the school comes here to talk to you, Dan’s in charge to discuss what’s happening with the game but you’re not going back onto that court until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Kevin asked.

“To find fucking Stilinski and Nang.”  Wymack pulled on his track jacket to help buffer the rain they could now hear pattering like nails against the building.  “Stay.  Here.”

Wymack pushed out the doors to the hall.  Its harsh clatter echoed through the room as it swung shut.  Everyone looked at each other in uneasy silence.  Andrew caught Neil’s eyes and Nicky’s and Kevin’s and Renee’s and Dan’s and Aaron’s.  The three freshmen that were here were clinging to each other and looking to Dan for leadership. 

“No.  Nope,” Dan said sternly.  “We are not having a repeat of last year.  Allison, Matt, you stay here with the babies.  Renee, Aaron, you and I are dragging Isaac back here kicking and screaming.  I don’t fucking care.”

“Why me?” Aaron protested. 

“He likes you for whatever dumb fuck reason.  Thinks you’re cool,” Dan rolled her eyes before fixing them on Andrew.  “Take your crew and find your boy and Kira.  I am not.  I repeat NOT letting any of my team be fucking killed I don’t care if we have to punch the fucking rain clouds to do it.  A building is going to fucking fall on their heads I just know it.  So make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” Nicky saluted. 

Andrew looked at his friends.  Neil and Nicky and Kevin were strong guys, they could handle themselves in a normal fight and nothing could beat down their spirits after all the shit they’ve gone through, but that didn’t mean they could deal with whatever it was that was going down outside.

“You guys should stay here,” Andrew said.  “I’ll go.”

That was the second time in less than ten minutes that he’d offered to go after Stiles.  It was annoying, realizing he kept finding people to care about.  Sometimes he missed being so high on prescriptions that emotions didn’t mean anything. 

“You’re delusional if you think you’re going anywhere alone right now,” Dan snapped.

“It’s just a storm,” Neil said.  “It’ll be fine.”

Andrew couldn’t stop him as Neil and Kevin walked right past him to follow Wymack out. 

“Come on dude, let’s go,” Nicky smiled like this was some big adventure, like this was going to be exciting and fun, just some friends messing around outside during a storm.

How could Andrew explain that this wasn’t an adventure.  This was the kind of stuff that made Stiles the enigma Andrew still didn’t fully understand.

By the time they made it outside, Kevin spotted Wymack racing towards the football field across the parking lot, where Stiles was just now slipping inside. 

“What the fuck is he doing?” Kevin aske. 

The clouds above them rumbled and rolled, moving so quickly it looked like magic rather than weather.  Andrew swallowed hard knowing that it very well might be.    

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Wow this update took FOREVER. But as I said before, I've been working on a lot of event fics. Eyes Like Stars is up from the Sterek Reverse Bang. And Timeless Summer is up for the Sterek Summer Gift Exchange.
> 
> I'm also working on a Stucky fic for that Big Bang which I'm supposed to turn in on the 12 and I am no where near finished, so I won't be working on either of my Sterek fics until that's done. 
> 
> How I have it mapped out there's only I think 2 more chapters of this, so it's probably going to get priority over Double Walkers so that I can focus my attention on one story at a time and get chapters out a bit more timely than I have been. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!! 
> 
> Also if you haven't yet checked it out, my webseries [The Werewolf Diaries](https://www.youtube.com/c/TheWerewolfDiaries) is finished! Also check out [my other youtube channel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTZpeaJseCKkOIsJJl1jcEQ) if you want to see me act like an utter fool. :) The subscribe button is waiting for you!!!
> 
> <3


	19. struck by lightning

Kira felt as if the world was about to split apart beneath her and swallow her whole.  She would know.  It had happened before.  The ground trembled from the pressure of the sky, and Kira could feel the thunder in her bones.  The clouds moved in above them like darks beasts charging into battle.  In many ways, they were.  At the center of these storms were the harpies plaguing the area making everyone unsettled and afraid.

She could understand why.

Kira’s hand trembled around her katana with the terrible knowledge that she had called them this way.  Stiles reached her side before they did, though.  He was panting hard, a familiar sight from their time on the high school exy team.  He hadn’t been so out of breath all season. 

“Do you think mountain ash can trap a bird?” he asked, staring up at the dark purple clouds and near black sky above them. 

The wind was loud and Kira almost didn’t hear him.  She turned in panic when she registered what he said.

“You don’t _know_!” 

“Mountain ash doesn’t work against everything!” Stiles screeched, his voice reedy and distressed.  “It’s not like the bestiary is a fucking how to manual!”

Thunder crashed directly above them, a boom so loud it hurt her eardrums.  The croon of the harpies underscored the crash and the football field lit up.  It was hot and blinding in a way Kira was starting to associate as natural.  The way lightning felt as it as it would trail up her skin and galvanize the whole area was like taking a breath of home.  But the harpies lightning felt different than hers.  As it came down from the clouds, Kira felt like a firefly facing Zeus. 

Through the wind and thunder and thick sheet of rain that came with the creatures, Kira heard a whisper of her name.  In less time it took for light to travel from the skies above her, Stiles reminded her of something important.  _She had passed her trials.  She’d pass this too._

In a move she couldn’t explain, Kira let the harpies’s energy course through her and she spun it back around, using her katana like a conducting rod.  For a moment, the clouds parted at the force of the blast and the harpies were visible for the first time.

“Oh fuck.”

X

Neil made it into the football field first and nearly barreled into Wymack.   His coach rounded on him, eyes wide and face pale.  He immediately began shouting, only growing more distressed as Kevin, Andrew, and Nicky joined them.  _What are you doing here, I told you to stay put, you can’t be here_ or something.  Neil could barely hear him, and not just because the thunderstorm had reached hurricane levels.

There was _something_ in the sky.  Neil took an involuntary step back.  His shoulder brushed against Andrew’s, which startled him enough to look over.  All of them were staring at the field in horror and disbelief.  Neil felt a bubble of hysterics build behind his breast bone. 

Then his eyes caught their teammates on the field.

“Is that a fucking sword!?” Nicky asked in a panicked yell. 

“Forget the sword!” Kevin barked.  “How is she moving like that!?”

Kira raced around the field, away from where Stiles stood, going at a speed that could only be described as superhuman.  She wasn’t some comic book hero, but she was close.  Neil reached for Andrew’s hand and felt as if his whole world settled differently when Andrew laced their fingers together.  It was grounding, to feel the other’s boy’s palm against his, a mark of reality among this chaos. 

“You guys have to get out of here!” Wymack yelled again, failing at pushing them away from the field. 

There were so many questions running through Neil’s head.  Questions he couldn’t comprehend or voice.  Thunder cracked the sky and Neil had never been so close to lightning before.  A bright flash gave the area an eerie glow, before the light shrank to where Kira stood and was flung back up into the sky.

Neil didn’t even notice how tightly he was squeezing Andrew’s hand until the other boy pulled forward.

“You can’t just leave them out there,” Andrew shouted over the wind and rain. 

Wyamck looked lost, afraid, out of his depths in a way none of them had ever seen the man before.  Meanwhile, despite the surrealness of the situation, Neil was most shocked by how aggressively Andrew was championing for Stiles and Kira.  How unsurprised he was. 

“Kira!” Nicky yelled, racing towards the field without second thought. 

Wymack yelled after him to get back there but Kevin shut him up with a look.  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Kevin said, “and this is terrifying and strange in a way I hadn’t expected, but Andrew’s right.  We can’t leave them out there.”

Kevin followed Nicky and when Andrew started running he tugged Neil along.  He let his feet carry him, pushing back all rational thoughts in order to just _keep moving_.

When they got close enough, Stiles noticed them.  His eyes bugged out and he glared so hard at Andrw that Neil wouldn’t have been surprised if he started shooting lasers.  “What the fuck, Andrew!”

Andrew only shrugged.  “What do you need.”

Stiles looked around, eyes darting rapidly between his teammates, the field, and the sky and whatever was hidden between those storm cloud.  He stared down at the jar of dirt in his hands and let out a shaky breath. 

“Come here.”  Stiles unscrewed the jar and dumped some of the dirt into his hands.  When they got closer he held out the dirt and dropped some into Andrew’s hand.  Then Nicky’s and Kevin’s.  Neil held his hand out and took some of the dirt.  It felt gritty and damp and Neil had to close his fist quickly to prevent the stuff from flying away with the wind.  “Back up, make a square.  When you see me signal, toss it in the air.”

“What?” Neil asked.  He felt five steps behind like a bad computer lag.  He was missing something.  A lot of somethings.  But Neil looked around and everyone else was on board, if not also confused. 

They backed up, like Stiles told them.  About three yards apart, each holding a handful of black dirt.  And Neil thought last year had been eventful.

Stiles called Kira over and she bounded into the square.  Neil blinked, but the crackling of energy that surrounded her didn’t go away.  Little streaks of lightning encased her body.  Neil held his fist tighter as if the little bit of ash or dirt or whatever Stiles had given them would keep him safe.

He couldn’t hear what Stiles told Kira, but they nodded to each other.  The thunder above rolled and light swelled.  An unseemly glow that heated the whole arena.  Then lightning struck. 

Kira held her sword out, up to the sky, collecting the energy.  It looked like it hurt.  Then she ran for Stiles, who knelt.  Kira jumped, using Stiles as a stepping stone.  When she leapt into the air, she spun and swung her sword to the clouds above.

The force of the swing and the lightning blew the clouds away, just briefly.  Long enough to reveal the hideous beasts that had been hiding within.  Neil knew that monsters hid in the hearts of humans.  He’d seen it time and again.  He’d almost turned into one on more than one occasion.  But he never stopped to think that there were other monsters in the world.  The kind that made his father seem like a worm and Riko a mote of dust. 

Neil almost missed Stiles yelling “NOW” in his haze of awe and wonder. 

He tossed the ash into the air and hoped Stiles and Kira knew what they were doing, because this was something Neil didn’t know how to fight.

X

Dan blinked and shook her head.  The power surges must have been doing something to her eyes.  It looked, for a moment, that Isaac’s arms were twisted in black.  She had been going to demand he get seen by the medic available for the game, but then it was gone.  Dan couldn’t stop staring the whole jog back to the lockers.  Isaac had been helping those in the stands, but the biggest commotion seemed to be under control: school administrators and were getting everyone together to wait out the storm safely. 

It was surprisingly difficult to convince Isaac to come back to the team.  He was too caught up in the few injured that were still waiting to be seen by the medic.  Aaron had ultimately convinced him to come back with a jab about convincing Wymack to kick him off the team if he doesn’t cooperate. 

When they got back to the locker room, Isaac looked around and rolled his eyes.  “You’re missing half the team.  Why were you so worried about me?”

“Because,” Dan jabbed, poking his shoulder with as much intensity as she could muster, “you were _alone_.  There’s a reason I took two others with me to find your dumb ass.”

Something in him shifted and Dan hoped the idiotic freshmen understood.  She wasn’t leaving anyone behind. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

The atmosphere of the room was tense, like some sort of disaster movie.  The storm wasn’t _that_ bad, Dan thought, but none of them were very stable individuals.  Sheena and Jack were holding hands but not looking at each other and Allison was awkwardly patting Ash’s head as the freshman was near tears.  Matt rushed over and lifted Dan into a hug.  She held on and huffed out a shaky breath.  This wasn’t a disaster, she reminded herself.  It was just a storm.

Isaac marched over to where Ash was failing at holding herself together and sat down.  “Hey, you okay?”

Ash shook her head.  “Don’t like storms,” she rasped out.  Isaac nodded and placed a gentle hand on her wrist.  Ash flinched but didn’t pull away.  Her breathing came a bit easier, although she was still clearly panicked and jumped when the thunder rolled again.

Dan could have sworn she saw that black on Isaac’s arm again, but it was too quick.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked. 

Dan shook her head, she was just over thinking things.  “I just have a bad feeling about Stiles and Kira.  Those dumbasses are going to get themselves hurt out there.”

“I wish I could reassure you,” Isaac said, grimacing at the sound of thunder, “but I swear we’re only alive by accident at this point.”

“Thanks, Isaac,” Dan said without a drop of sincerity. 

“What I’m here for,” he grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Isaac looked towards the door.  He was nervous for his friends, too. 

“Come on, guys,” Dan muttered to herself.  Maybe, if she willed it hard enough, her team would come back.

X

Stiles laid on the ground and stared up at the cage he made and willed it to stay in place, afraid that any ounce of doubt into the _how the actual hell did that work_ would make it crumble.  At the last second before the ash had come together, the harpies sent off one last strike of lightning and Kira wasn’t able to deflect all of it, too exhausted from the last few minutes running around the field.  It ricocheted sideways and Stiles tried to will it up and out.

He had touched high voltage before.  When his body had been taken over, it was still his, still human, and yet that foreign energy had been enough to stand up against a taser.  He had held coursing sparks in his hands and not felt a thing.  The void was gone, but Stiles’s own power had only grown since then.

Lightning was still a little much. 

Far above their heads, two harpies were trapped in a bubble of mountain ash, the powder having come at them from all sides thanks to his team.  Stiles did that.  Despite the horrible case of feeling as if he’d just stuck a fork in an outlet, he was able to keep, he had thrust his energy up into the sky and it _stayed_ there.

Holy fucking hell.

The things screeched and it sounded like the storm, but their wings were generating less wind and the afternoon sun was starting to peak out beyond the dark clouds.

“How do we get them down?” Kira asked absently, also staring at the visage before them like she’d never experienced the supernatural before.    

“I have no fucking clue,” Stiles said.  There was still some mountain ash on his palm, which was frankly ridiculous because there was more ash in the sky than he had brought with him.  Still, he held his hand out and willed it to attract the rest of it, bring it all to him. 

For all the ruckus they made, the creatures were no bigger than vultures.  They somehow seemed bigger in the sky, each cloud and wind and rain an extension of their wings.  But now, the storm pulled back and only the natural rain caused by such strong shifts in pressure remained. They were just ugly purple birds.

“What do we _do_ with them?” Kira asked, helping Stiles to his feet. He was a little unsteady, all of his energy going into keeping the ash trap together.

These weren’t like other creatures they’ve faced.  They couldn’t talk, they weren’t people in that sense.  These weren’t shifters.  They were harpies.  Animals gifted with the power of storm, brining despair and destruction where they went.  How could Stiles let them loose only to terrorize somewhere else.  How could Stiles kill an animal.

“I don’t know.”  He looked to Kira as the mountain ash cage settled into his hands.  “Call Deaton?”  Through the mountain ash the harpies tried to shock him.  Kira redirected the lightning. 

“We should get a real cage for them.  You can’t hold that up forever.”  Stiles hummed his agreement, having almost forgotten about the world around him until their teammates crowded in, all but Andrew jeering questions their way. 

Wymack’s voice cut over all of theirs.  “You _stupid_ , RECKLESS,” he let out a primal yell.  “You all could have gotten _killed_.  This wasn’t something you needed to get involved in!”

Stiles glared, strengthening his resolve on the mountain ash cage as he set it down.  He was still unsteady on his feet and every movement of his muscles felt like burning, but he stood as tall as he could.  “There was no one else that could help.  And even if I could look the other way, they were going after Kira.  We were going to get involved just by being here!”

Wymack was shaking, eyes darting between Stiles and the giant bird like creatures trapped in ash next to him.  “I promised your father I would try to keep you away from this shit,” Wymack said, voice as hard as steel despite his outward worry.

“You think I’m not trying to stay away from it, too?  The fuck do you know!” Stiles snapped.

“Stiles,” Kira tried to interject, but he ignored her.

“I’ve _hurt_ people because of this.  I’ve gone _insane_ because of this!  I joined your stupid team because it was supposed to be risk free!  This wasn’t supposed to keep happening.”  Stiles voice was hoarse and he felt his eyes water, mixing in the with rain that still fell from the sky.

When Wymack stepped forward, Stiles didn’t flinch, but he felt a sudden flash of fear in his gut like he always did when facing down monstrous men much stronger than himself.  But then Wymack wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him into his chest.  A sob broke out of Stiles’s throat.  He was crashing from an adrenaline rush and still focusing his energy into the damned cage.  He couldn’t focus on holding onto anything else.  So, he cried.

“Hey, kid,” Wymack said softly.  “You’re safe, you hear me.  You don’t have to do this shit alone.  I took you on which means you’re someone _I_ take responsibility for now, do you get that?  You don’t do things like this alone, if you do them at all.  I’ll figure it out, okay.  I’ll figure out how to make sure you don’t have to do this anymore.”

Stiles recognized the hand touching his as Kira’s, the first touch causing a static shock before twining their fingers together.  “You don’t have to be everybody’s rock, Stiles.”

There was a few moments where Stiles calmed down, crying into Wymack’s shoulder as Kira held his hand.  The rain patter eased although it didn’t stop.

“Is anybody going to explain to me what the fuck just happened?” Nicky asked.

X

Somehow, when all was said and done, they tried playing the game.  Everyone was distracted and they lost.  It should have been expected, but for once it seemed the Foxes were ready to take a break.  Allison claimed the graduating seniors now had more time to spend partying before bowing out and becoming adults. 

Stiles had sat out, sticking with the harpies in an empty equipment locker that Bill and Lance showed them.  He made the phone call to Deaton, who said he’d be there in a few hours to collect them, finding a flight last minute. 

Once the game was over, he handed the bird things over to other team’s wolves, one of them having gone out to grab a dog crate to keep them in.  They promised to keep him updated if anything else weird popped up in the area.  Stiles would see to it that someone else could come in and check it out if something were to happen.

“Finally, Stilinski!” Jack groaned as Stiles stepped onto the bus.  “We’ve been waiting _forever_.  Where the fuck did you even go?”

“Shut up, Jack,” Aaron snapped before mushing the pillow he brought with him against the pillow. 

It was at least an hour to the airport with traffic and they were all tired.  Isaac and Kira were already sitting in the back with the rest of them from the fight.  Kevin, Andrew, Neil, and Nicky had questions that were put on hold and Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge them for the next hour.

Stiles flopped into the seat next to Isaac with a heavy sigh.  “Yeah, okay.  Give it to me.”

“Us,” Kira reminded Stiles.  “We’re here together, Stiles.”

Isaac clapped Stiles on the shoulder.  The Beacon Hills Pack may be disbanded – Hayden and Liam having joined Satomi and Malia going around without an alpha – but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t have a network anymore.  They were right, Stiles didn’t have to do this alone.  It was a hard concept to grasp.

“I know that look,” Nicky snorted.  “It’s a little disturbing how much like Neil you are.”

Stiles looked over to Neil and caught his eye.  They both shrugged.  It’s not like it hadn’t gone past either of their notice, they just felt like their personal struggles were too different to ever talk about their similarities. 

“So,” Nicky continued, “what exactly _are_ you guys.”

Stiles, Kira, and Isaac all looked at one another, wondering where to start.  Stiles cleared his throat.  “We’re a pack.”

Isaac pushed Stiles’s head away and he squawked in protest but caught the grin on Isaac’s face.  Kira jumped up in her seat to lean over the back and get closer to the both of them.  “Really?  You mean it?”  She looked to Isaac.  “Because I like Cora and Derek.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the way his cheeks burned.  “Yeah,” he shrugged.  “Malia’s been talking about coming back to get to know them, too.”

“So, what?  Beacon Hills just relocates to Palmetto?” Isaac scoffed, although the sound was laced with good humor.  “Should I call up Jackson, ask him to join us.”

“Oh, god.  No.” Stiles glared.  “Don’t even joke about that.”

“You do realize that doesn’t answer jack shit,” Andrew said. 

Stiles looked back at the “monsters”, their friends.  He took a glance at the rest of the bus, but everyone else was closer to the front, most with headphones in.  Renee, Matt, Dan, and Allison were in a whispered conversation of their own.  Stiles was used to people being really oblivious, but it never hurt to check before talking too loudly about the supernatural.  He’d learned his lesson on that one back home.

“I’m a druid, I guess?  I mean, I’m not Irish or anything, but I don’t think cross cultural barriers matter too much, it’s just a decent term to use and I’m sure that type of power wasn’t localized to the Celtics.”

“What the fuck, dude,” Nicky whined. 

Stiles sighed.  “I can do magic stuff, sometimes.  That’s it.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at the other two.  “And Kira is?”

“A kitsune,” she said bashfully. 

Something similar to a smile tugged at Andrew’s lips.  “That’s why you thought it was so funny Kira was on our team top of summer training.”

Kira tucked her hair behind her ear and scrunched her face up a little.  “Yeah.”  She noticed the others were still confused.  “I’m a magic fox.  There’s different elements of them.  Mine is obviously lightning.”

All eyes turned to Isaac.  He flashed his eyes and let his teeth lengthen, just for a moment.  Nicky let out a very high pitched “eep”  although Neil and Kevin also pulled back at the sight. 

“Showoff,” Stiles said.

“Werewolf,” Isaac grinned, enjoying this too much.

“Holy fuck,” Nicky whispered.  “Like the yakuza last year wasn’t weird and stressful enough, but no, now we have a fucking _werewolf_ on the team!”

“Ugh, gross.  I hate the yakuza,” Stiles sneered as if tasting something bad.

Isaac curled his lip in a look of disbelief.  “You weren’t the one who had to pretend to be a gun dealer so Allison could rob them.  You didn’t even see them!”

“Okay, fine,” Stiles relented.  “But that wasn’t exactly a pleasant time of my life, Isaac.”

“Was there _ever_ a pleasant time of your life after Scott got bit?” he counted.

“Good fucking point,” Stiles said. 

Kevin looked at them warily.  “You stole from the yakuza?”

Isaac shrugged.  “Ah, not exactly?”

“What’s the stuff we threw in the air?” Neil asked, bringing the questions to a more recent thread. 

“Mountain ash powder.  It acts as a ward most supernatural creatures can’t pass.”

Andrew hummed.  “I thought you were a drug dealer for a while, but nothing you had on you works that way.”

“Andrew, please stop going through my shit,” Stiles sighed. 

“Okay, but like,” Nicky interjected, “what _were_ those things causing – causing? – causing the storm.”

“Causing, yes.  Harpies.”  Stiles winced as he twisted the wrong way and his nerves lit up like fucking Operation.  “Oh, fuck.  I need to call Lydia.”

Stiles dug his phone out while the boys gave him a questioning look.  Neil frowned.  “Is she… is she also a…?”

“Oh!  No,” Kira smiled as Stiles waited for the line to pick up.  “Lydia’s a banshee.  She called before because she thought Stiles might die.”

Lydia picked up and Stiles went straight into a long winded explanation of the day’s events.  He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but his mind was only half on what they could possibly be surmising from everything they had witnessed.  He gave them a wink and an absent minded finger gun, not missing a beat in his story to Lydia.

“All in all, I’m surprised it wasn’t worse if you felt it all the way from Boston.”

_“I guess I’m just used to looking out for you.  Everything that happened last year may have severed our connection to Beacon Hills, but not to each other.”_

Stiles smiled.  “Yeah.  You’re right.” 

X

They didn’t get off the plane until about four in the morning, none of them happy or well rested and Stiles was still sporting a full body injury that couldn’t get checked out because _reasons_.  They were grumpy and tired and had just lost what became their last game of the season.

The plan was to hop on the bus and make it to the dorms and sleep the entire day before recalibrating their schedule, but the way Issac perked up as they reached baggage, Stiles had a feeling his master plan was going to be thrown out the window.

Stiles looked around the small sea of passengers and loved ones and when his eyes landed on Derek he nearly melted.  Derek and Cora were waiting by baggage claim but the former quickly strode over and pulled Stiles into a comforting embrace. 

“Damnit, Stiles,” he hissed.  “I’m never letting you go on an away game alone.”

“There was a whole team with me, actually.  We’d be disqualified if I tried to play a game by myself.”

“You know what I mean, you little shit,” Derek huffed, burying his nose into the tuft of Stiles’s hair. 

A wolf whistle cut through their reunion and Stiles groaned, burying his face deeper into Derek’s leather jacket.

“Your friends are trading money,” Derek supplied.

“Let them do what they want, they’re all assholes and deserve to lose money,” Stiles mumbled.  Then he stepped back, already missing Derek’s warmth.  “What are you doing here?”

“Isaac told me what happened in Seattle.  I wasn’t just going to not check up on you as soon as possible.”

Stiles frowned.  He was about to ask why, but Isaac came over and pushed the back of his head.  It was a familiar gesture at this point, and Stiles remembered what he said on the shuttle to the airport.  They were pack. 

It had been true longer than he had been willing to admit.

“I’m going to talk to the northern pack,” Derek said.  “They’re large and have a few members at the school.  They should be taking responsibility for the wolves and anyone else that go to class at Palmetto to make sure they’re not going off on dangerous adventures.”

Stiles crossed his arms defensively.  “I can take care of myself.  In fact, sometimes I’m the only one who can take care of anything.  They’ve already asked me for help once.”

Derek shook his head.  “It was never fair to you as a high school student to be asked to do the things you had to.  We have a chance here to make sure something similar doesn’t keep happening.  Adults have a responsibility of making sure those under their care are safe.  It never should have been your responsibility in the first place.”

Stiles smiled softly and looked away.  It was a nice sentiment.  Stiles wondered who he would be now, though, without it all.  Without the train wreck of a high school career, would Stiles have his current interests, his current friends.  Would he have ever gotten to know Lydia beyond an ideal or ever had cause to speak with Derek?  It wasn’t a good situation, but he couldn’t change the past, and as much as life seemed like a never ending nightmare… Stiles looked up into Derek’s eyes and knew he was glad to have him standing there.

Fuck.

When did he get so sappy?

The whir of the conveyer belt started and it wasn’t too long before the team had their luggage.  “Come on,” Cora said.  “You wanna stay with us for the weekend?”  She looked between Stiles and Kira expectedly.  “You both need some serious rest.”

Stiles looked back to the rest of the team and Wymack.  Nicky waggled his eyebrows, but other than that they seemed to have accepted Derek as Isaac’s guardian and Stiles and Kira’s friend.  He caught Andrew’s eye.  The boy only nodded his head, an indication that he’d be there if Stiles freaked out again, but after explaining a bit more about who Derek and Cora really were to them all, Andrew came off as less protective than before.

“Can we get pizza later?” Stiles asked. 

Derek smiled and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat.  He hoped Derek hadn’t been listening too carefully.

Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHH 
> 
> FINALLY!!! This chapter had the line that inspired the whole story. Nicky complaining about the yakuza and now werewolves which triggers Stiles and Isaac into arguing about the yakuza. That was it. That was the whole original story in my head. And now 50k+ later... hahahah
> 
> But yeah! One more chapter!!! This has been such an exciting ride with you all. I never thought it would be such a popular crossover. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. I know updates have been fairly slow this year because I broke my rule about only having one (1) WIP at a time. Instead I started this, then Double Walkers, then my YYH fic, then signed up for three (3) event fics.
> 
> Ugh.
> 
> But, all my event fics are done. Courting Foxes will be finished soon. Then I'll be able to trade off Double Walkers and Thousand Eyes fairly easily. It just sucks because I have a lot of story ideas I want to do that idk if or when I'll get around to them. But I'm also writing another webseries and I want to try doing a feature film, and I'm not even pursing a full writing career. It's all supplementary to my actual goals. So, idk. Life man. 
> 
> <3


	20. new roots

Stiles sat on the roof with Andrew and Neil and looked out over the campus.  He had to give it to them, it was a nice spot.  They snuck away from the senior’s goodbye party not long ago.  Dan and Matt had already disappeared into his bedroom and Allison was so drunk she’d probably already been sent to bed by now.  Renee was sensible, at least, and probably still doing fine, but the party was probably over by now. 

“You’re staying with the Hales over break,” Andrew stated.

Stiles nodded.  Break wasn’t long because they’d be starting summer practice soon enough, but for the part of summer the dorms were closed, Stiles was going to bunk with Derek, Isaac, Cora, and Malia.  Malia had already expressed she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay or not, but she did want to get to know her family now that she had the opportunity. 

“Do you think things will finally be quiet next year?” Neil asked, his lit cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.  Andrew dropped his stump and ground it out before plucking Neil’s and taking a drag.  Neil didn’t complain, he wasn’t going to smoke it anyway.

“We have a couple of new players coming in.  There’ll always be some kind of mix up,” Andrew said. 

“Yeah, but,” Neil shrugged.  “Nothing crazy.  No more monsters.”

Stiles rubbed behind his ear.  “I don’t know.  Hard to predict what’s happening everywhere we might play a game.”

Andrew huffed, a curl of smoke streaming from his nostrils.  “You still doing that?”

“Doing what?” Stiles frowned.

Andrew tapped behind his ear.  “What is it, anyway?”

Stiles realized he had been tracing the mark the oni left.  “Oh,” Stiles frowned.  “Uh.  I was possessed.”

“You’re not joking,” Andrew stated, although he clearly wanted Stiles to be.

Stiles shook his head.  “It’s a Japanese marker for self.  Some, uh, things were going around trying to figure out who was possessed.  They branded every supernatural presence they could find to suss it out.  The werewolves healed, of course.  Lydia and I were left with our scars.  But, uh, I obviously didn’t get mine until after we were able to defeat it.  A final test to make sure I was clear.”

“You can’t always trust yourself,” Andrew said with a nod.  Stiles vaguely remembered saying that once, at the banquet.  Andrew never forgot anything, apparently.

“Yeah.  It was a bad time for me.  I never.  I never quite got over it.”

“Probably how you qualified as a Fox,” Andrew said, taking a last pull of Neil’s cigarette.

“I’m still surprised I was recruited,” Stiles admitted.  “I mean.  I’m still probably the worst player on the team.”

“I picked you,” Neil said.

Stiles startled at that.  “What?”

Neil shrugged.  “We had a stack of candidates that Wymack had me look through.  I picked you.”

Stiles frowned.  “Why?”

Neil looked Stiles over and he shifted uncomfortably.  It was rare that Neil was the one to unsettle him.  “Everyone says we’re alike,” Neil said.  “I guess I saw that even on paper, between that and your videos.  I could see it in your eyes.  More than the rest of them.  Too much like me.  And, I really needed this.  Figured you did, too.”

Stiles thought about this past year, away from the clutches of Beacon Hills.  He didn’t know how much of it could be attributed to simply not being back home, and how much was because of the team and finding a home with them, but Stiles felt lighter than he had in years.  Relaxed.  He felt like he was breathing fresh air for the first time, despite the tinge of cigarettes. 

Derek had done as promised and sat down with the northern pack to establish ways to keep college students safe, chewing them out for asking Stiles for help in a situation they could have handled on his own.  Also, based off Stiles’s story of Cody, who struggled with control his first full moon on campus, they tried to set up a network for all the incoming supernatural creatures.  Everyone deserved a support group, and without one werewolves could end up hurting people on accident. 

Stiles wondered if there was a way to implement something similar on a wider scale.  Derek was right.  High school kids and college kids shouldn’t have that kind of burden alone. 

“Well now that we got that sappy shit out of the way,” Stiles cleared his throat.  I’m heading to bed.  If I don’t see you at move out,” Stiles trailed off.  It was a goodbye for now.  They’d see each other soon enough. 

Stiles was looking forward to break, though.

X

Isaac pulled into Derek’s driveway and Stiles felt his hands get clammy.  The two of them hadn’t gotten to talk more about whatever it was that was tugging between them.  The last few months of school seemed to speed by.  He and Derek texted a lot, but the way Derek held him after returning from Seattle was never addressed.  Nor the two of them camping out together in the living room that night.  Cora had rolled her eyes when she walked in on them the morning after.  “You should have just picked a bed,” muttered under her breath. 

They hadn’t _done_ anything, though.  Talked some.  Found comfort in being near each other.  Stiles was drained from all the events with the harpies and didn’t want to be alone.  He had slept all day on the couch and was wide away by the time night came around.  Derek said he’d wait up with him.  They fell asleep at some point, maybe too close for friends.

Stiles blushed at the memory.  Next to him, Isaac snorted as he cut the engine.  “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’re being an idiot.”

“Thanks, Isaac, really comforting,” he rolled his eyes and jumped out of the car.  It didn’t help his nerves knowing that Malia was already there. 

It was one thing to be forced to deal with a crush.  It was another when your crush was your ex’s cousin and you were all going to be living in the same house.

Isaac came round with his bag from the trunk and slapped Stiles upside the back of his head.  It was going to be a long break.

“Stiles!” Malia cheered, opening the door and racing towards them.  “You’re here!”  She pulled Stiles into a bear hug, distinctly less awkward than the last time they had a chance to see each other.  “I’m so excited.  Cora told me about a music festival that’s happening next weekend.  We can all go together.”

Stiles smiled and hugged her back.  “That sounds great.”

Derek was leaning in the doorway by the time Malia let go and Stiles couldn’t help the sudden flush over his face.  “Hey.”

Derek smirked.  “Hey.” 

Isaac threw Stile’s duffle into his back and Stiles stumbled forward, prevented from falling thanks to Malia.   Cora’s laughter could be heard from inside.  Yeah.  It was going to be a long break.

X

All five of them sat in the living room, seven pizzas between them and _The Little Mermaid_ playing on the TV.   They were laughing, sometimes singing along, but mostly talking over the cartoon.  Stiles leaned back into the couch and looked at all of them.  This is what pack should be, he realized.  It hit him like a slap on the face. 

Pack in Beacon Hills was strong.  He will always have a tight bond with all the members that came in and out of it.  They had gone through too much together to not be able to consider what they had special.  Even when he was pushing Derek away at the top of last school year, Stiles knew that it wouldn’t take much to bring them back together.  But all the same, the pack back in Beacon Hills was disjointed and in constant distress.  They never had time to be happy and relaxed.  There were always something lurking around the corner.

But now, it was food and Disney and laughter.  It felt like it was going to last.

“It’s too bad Kira couldn’t be here,” Cora pouted.  “We really got along last time.”

“Yeah, well,” Isaac said through a mouthful of pizza, “wanted to learn it right this time around.”

“I’m jealous,” Malia said.  “Japan sounds cool.”

“You think she’s going to take her mom’s name back?” Isaac asked. 

“Coach would have a fit needing to change the uniforms,” Stiles laughed.  He let his head roll back and caught Derek’s eye.  Derek smiled at him and Stiles forgot how words worked. _Fuck_.

When morning came, Derek walked Stiles to the coffee shop on the corner.  It was peaceful. 

“Did I ever explain to you about my grandfather?” Stiles asked as they stepped out of the shop, an iced latte in hand.

“You once texted something about how you came from a lineage of sparks, but that was about it,” Derek shrugged. 

Stiles turned so they would walk away from the house.  Derek didn’t question as he followed.  “My mom gave me his name and I can’t help but believe it’s because she was okay with what he did.  I haven’t been able to reconcile myself with that fact since learning it.”

“What did he do?” Derek asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

Stiles spotted a little park down the street and started heading that way.  This might be a long story.  “Deaton’s a druid, right?  Sword to keep the balance.  Like Jennifer said, everything is a give and take.  You make sacrifices for power.  Normally not blood sacrifices, but still.  But I just have this _thing_ in me, this strength I can manipulate.  I don’t have to keep the balance, I’m just like anyone else that needs to be kept in check.”

Derek stayed quiet, whether it was because he was trying to wrap his head around Stiles’s string of information or just giving Stiles more time to get to the point could be debated.  Either way, Stiles was glad for the silence, a moment to ready himself.  “My grandfather was not a good man.  I’m sure he thought he was, but,” Stiles shook his head.  “By all accounts I could find he used his spark to corral innocent creatures, to ‘stop fights before they started’ because he deemed something a threat without proof.  He was a vigilante.  He was a hunter, Derek.  Not like Chris or Allison, but like Kate and Gerard.  And I can tell myself that I’m different, but am I?”

“You’ve only done things out of self defense,” Derek said automatically.

“All Scott had to do was say there was something weird about the two werewolves on the Seattle team to launch me into a full on investigation to find a _cause_ for me to get involved.  I’m just a half step away from going after people because they remind me of Matt or Peter or Jennifer.  I had bad feelings about all of them, and I was always right.  But if I follow that bad feeling?”  He didn’t finish his sentence. 

They reached a bench and Derek sat down first.  “You’re not going to hurt someone who you can’t prove did anything wrong,” Derek stated, a firm conviction in his voice.

Stiles set his drink on the bench and looked at his hands.  “I wanted to stay.”

“What?”

“In Beacon Hills.  I wanted to leave, I wanted to get out, but at the same time, I wanted to stay.  I thought, if I became the hermit, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to hurt anyone else.  I’d spend my days regulating the darkness and nothing more.”

Derek grabbed one of his hands.  It was slick from the condensation of his drink, but Derek didn’t seem to react to that.

“You care too much to hurt others like that,” Derek said.  “You’re studying criminal law and want to join the FBI.  You want to help.”

“So did my grandfather,” Stiles snorted.  He pulled his hand away and grabbed his drink, taking an unnecessarily long sip.  “Did I tell you about Donovan?”

Derek shook his head.

“Yeah, it was self-defense.  I didn’t have any other choices at the time.  But I killed him.”  His hands started shaking so bad Derek had to take his drink from him.  Derek took both of his hands this time.  “If my actions could cause someone’s death,” Stiles gasped, “what’s to stop me from doing it again.”

“Sometimes you might have to,” Derek said.  Stiles snapped his eyes up, surprised.  He blinked away some tears before Derek spoke again.  “You want to help save people, Stiles.  And in that pursuit, it may end in death.  The difference between you and whatever you grandfather did, is a matter of choice.  A matter of last resort only.  If you join the FBI you’ll be trained in how to handle it.  You never know what you’ll need to do.  But I trust you, Stiles.”  Derek squeezed Stiles’s hands.  “I trust that you’ll always make the best judgement call you can.”

“I sometimes still don’t trust myself,” Stiles admitted.  “I feel like there’s still a grip on my heart making me do things.”

“The old nemeton is still healing,” Derek said.  “It might take a while.  But until you’re able to trust yourself, I’ll be here.”

Stiles looked at their hands.  “Even after?” Stiles asked.  He looked back up to Derek and felt the air rush out of him.  “Will you still be here even when I can go back to Beacon Hills.”

“I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me,” Derek whispered.

“That might be a long time,” Stiles said, feeling raw and open but somehow not vulnerable as he admitted this to Derek.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

Derek leaned in.  In a distant part of his mind, Stiles wondered who ended up winning this bet.

X

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Cora asked. 

Malia nodded, scrolling Derek’s laptop for flights back to California.  “Yeah.  I mean, Peter’s being released from the rehab clinic next week and I need to be there to make sure he doesn’t go on another killing spree.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Cora huffed.

“I know,” Malia said, but she didn’t seem to mind.  “But, since waking up from his coma Valack put him into, we’ve gotten to know each other.  I don’t actually think he’ll snap again.  He’s still an asshole with grey morals, but I mean, so am I?”

Stiles shrugged, realizing the validity of that statement.  It took a long time for Malia to see things from a different frame of mind than the laws of the wild.  She and Peter probably had a fair amount in common with how they would address situations.  “As long as you don’t let him manipulate you, like he’s so fond of,” Stiles muttered. 

Malia shook her head.  “Nah.  I mean, he’s definitely still manipulative.  You should see the way he talks to the orderlies, but I think I read him too well and maybe he actually likes me?  Hard to tell.  But, like, he is still my family, even if he’s not yours anymore,” she told Cora.  “I want to make sure he has his feet under him when they let him loose.”

“He killed my sister,” Cora said.  “I can never forgive him for that.”

“Yeah.  Agreed.  But what Valack did to him?  I consider it time served.”

“I guess I can accept that,” Cora said bitterly.  “Are you coming back, though?”

This time Malia blushed.  “Uh, I don’t know yet.”

“What does _that_ mean,” Isaac asked, popping his head up from the book he was reading.

“This is your pack.  And you’re family, but since coming back to the land of the two-legged, I’ve been in a pack with mostly Scott and Liam and Mason and Hayden.  And they’re all looking at colleges down by Scott, so I was thinking,” she shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god,” Cora’s mouth dropped.

“What?” Malia snapped, a clear flustered protest of Cora’s unspoken accusation.

“You have a crush on Scott!” Isaac laughed, snapping his book shut.

“No, I don’t!  Shut up,” Malia glared.

“Well this makes dating my ex’s cousin a lot less awkward.  If you want to date Scott, as his honorary brother, I give you my blessing.”

“I hate all of you,” Malia growled.

Stiles laughed off to the side as the play fighting turned into a small werewolf tussle in the middle of the living room.  By the time Derek got home with diner, the coffee table was smashed to bits and the couch looked like a bear had gotten inside.

Derek sighed.  “Everyone involved owes me a hundred bucks.” 

X

The new freshmen were, well, new.  Stiles had somehow missed how his own incoming class had found their rhythm, even if it included Sheena and Jack making snide comments together.  Plus, without the oldest members of the team, they were missing a core component of how things used to be balanced.  It was the monsters, the weird trio, Jack and Sheena, Ash, and the freshmen. 

Neil was also captain all by himself and it was totally overwhelming him.

But Andrew had taken a liking to one of the new girls, someone they all knew needed the extra support of someone like Andrew who protected those he chose at %120.  Then, there was the kid covered in burn marks.  Between him and Stiles, Neil started to get more comfortable changing with the group.  The first time he saw Neil’s scars he understood where everyone’s immediate concern came from.

Stiles had fought monsters.  Neil had lived with one.

But things settled pretty quickly, and by the time their first game came around, Stiles was confident they would find a strong footing for the rest of the season. 

In the stands were all their friends who had graduated: Matt, Renee, Dan, and Allison.  When Isaac pointed them out, Stiles thought they looked stiff and uncomfortable, but then he noticed who was sitting next to them.

“DAD!”

Stiles scrambled out of the players box to make his way around into the stands.  They had a good twenty minutes before the game started and he wasn’t in the starting lineup.  It was trial by fire for the freshmen.

Once he reached his dad, he flung himself into his arms and held on tight.  It had been over a year since they got to see each other properly, the Sheriff being unable to take time off when they were still so short staffed.

“What are you doing here!?”

“I didn’t get to see a single of your games last year.  I wasn’t going to miss today if I could help it.”  There had been a bunch of new hires recently and his dad said crime was down, but he hadn’t expected a surprise trip like this.”

Stiles hugged his dad again.  “God, I missed you so much.”  He felt his dad burry his nose into Stiles’s hair.  He’d finally gotten it cut over the summer and it was just a tuft on the top of his head again instead of the straggly mess that had been brushing his shoulders. 

“Missed you, too, kiddo.” 

They talked a bit about how long he was going to be in town and all the places Stiles wanted to show him while he was here.  There wasn’t much in Palmetto, but there were still some nice spots to bring visiting family.  It took him a moment to realize his old teammates were giving him weird looks.

“Oh!  Sorry, this is my dad,” Stiles said, introducing them all. 

“So, we gathered,” Matt hedged.  “Hey, can I walk you back to the player’s box?  I want to say hi to Nicky.”

Stiles shrugged and gave his dad one last hug before heading back down. 

“We thought your dad was, like,” Matt hesitated.

It suddenly clicked.  “You thought my dad was abusing me.”  That made sense, I guess, from what context they had of him from last year.  Stiles shook his head and laughed.  “No.  We uh, did get into a fight about me coming here.  I hadn’t wanted to leave, and things were… tense back home.  I took a while before I was able to collect myself and talk to him again.  But, no, he’s a great dad.  Good Sheriff.”

Stiles could see it in Matt’s eyes, all the questions about _well what happened to you then_ , but he also knew Matt wouldn’t push the issue.  He decided to give him something to tell the others.

“Uh, you guys looked up all the news reports of what happened in Beacon Hills, right?”

Matt nodded. 

“I’m noisy and often listened in on a police radio, and I kept getting involved.  We were acting like the Hardy Boys, when it wasn’t.  It was.”  Stiles swallowed hard.  “I lost a lot of friends and witnessed some things I shouldn’t have.  But I wasn’t being abused.  It was all my fault, really.”

“Jesus, Stiles,” Matt let his head fall back as he composed himself.  He placed a comforting hand on Stiles’s shoulder.  “You can’t blame yourself for that kind of shit.  And I know just saying that doesn’t mean shit, but there’s a difference between taking responsibility for your actions and living in a guilt trip.”

“Yeah,” Stiles huffed, “I know.”

“I noticed Derek wasn’t in the stands,” Matt said, changing the subject. 

Stiles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.  “He’s running late from work.”

Matt smirked.  “You ever seal the deal on that?  Asking for a friend.”

“Isaac made sure that bet was settled already,” Stiles huffed, blushing.  “Who won?”

“Neil.”

Stiles blinked, surprised.  “I thought Neil didn’t take bets.”

Matt shook his head.  “The only one he did.  He said not until the school year was over and Andrew put in his ante.”

“I hate all of them.”

Matt clapped him on the shoulder a couple of times before turning back to the stands.  “See you after the game, Stilinski.”

X

“Lydia?  I’m running late, can this wait?”  He pressed his phone between his cheek and shoulder and he scrambled to find his graduation cap.  He had taken it out of the package to paint a stupid fucking paw print on and now it was buried with all his half-packed clothes for move out.

_“It’s growing.”_

“What?”

_“It’s growing back, Stiles.  I can feel it.  There’s something new growing in Beacon Hills.”_

Stiles stilled in his steps.  It had been five years since they performed the ritual and left for college.

_“We can go back home.”_

Stiles spotted the obnoxious orange of the paw print under Isaac’s bed.  He didn’t question how it got there.  They were all a mess at this point. 

Someone knocked on his door.  It opened as he pulled the cap out from under the bed.  When he turned around, Derek was leaning against the doorframe. 

“You ready?” he asked.

Stiles smiled.

“I don’t know, Lyds,” Stiles said.  “I might already be home.”

_“You’re staring lovingly into Derek’s eyes, aren’t you?”_

“Yep.”

Derek smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. 

_“You’re disgusting.  Do you know that?  Here I am trying to tell you some news about our magical restraining order and you have to turn it into a love confession.”_

“I’ll talk to you later, Lydia.  I gotta go graduate.”

_“Bye, Stiles.  I’ll see you next month.”_

“Quantico, baby!”  He could practically hear Lydia roll her eyes from the other end of the phone.  He, Derek, Cora, Kira, and Isaac had talked it over and they were all going to transplant out to Virginia.  Lydia would join the pack, since they were both joining the Bureau.

“ _Quantico_ ,” Lydia agreed before hanging up.

“Come on,” Derek said, holding out his hand, “everyone’s waiting.”

Stiles shoved his cap on his head and grabbed Derek’s hand.  The Fox Tower had been a great home for the last five years, and he was excited to know that he could go back to Beacon Hills to visit his dad now.  But really… He smiled up at Derek the whole way to the Camaro and the hall they were holding graduation.  It was time to plant new roots. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!!!!
> 
> Holy shit that took forever. I'm sorry that all my writing has been severely delayed since starting this story. This year has been crazy, idk, and I feel like nothing actually happened for that to be the case. And yet.
> 
> I hope you all like it.
> 
> Someone asked for the foxes thinking the Sheriff was abusive and being v confused when he showed up to a game, which I promised to fill as a fucking NEW YEARS EVE present. I told them I'd do it after I finished the fic, but I just put it in the fic instead. Hope they're okay with that, if they even remember asking for that prompt. 
> 
> Anywho. [Next month is NANOWRIMO, so check out my page to learn more about how you can read my story that I'm gonna write.](http://baneofawolf.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo)
> 
> I'm also doing inktober if you want to [follow my main blog for that](https://inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com/tagged/inktober)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://www.inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/amyberserk)


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